Finding the Way
by ack1308
Summary: Taylor and Danny Hebert trigger at the same time, and get linked powers. As Compass Rose and Pathfinder, they must explore their new abilities, and the effects of these powers on the world around them.
1. Chapter 1

**Finding the Way**

* * *

_[Author's Note: This story is set in the Wormverse, which is owned by Wildbow.]_

_[Author's Note 2: I will accept any legitimate criticism of my work. However, I reserve the right to ignore anyone who says "That's wrong" without showing how it is wrong, and suggesting how it can be made right.]_

* * *

Part 1: the Flute

* * *

Taylor stared at the flute.

It had been her mother's before she died. It was not an expensive instrument, but her mother had always kept it polished and cleaned, and made sure that the keys worked smoothly. She could still recall her mother playing it; the sound had been haunting and beautiful, and had brought tears to her eyes.

There were tears in her eyes now, tears of pain and anguish.

The flute lay atop the heap of trash destined for the compactor. When she had found it, she had first felt a surge of joy; Emma had only taken it to scare her.

But then she looked more closely.

It had been ... violated.

The body had been beaten flat, with what must have been a brick. The nickel-plated keys had been torn half off. And something horrible, with a vile odour, had been smeared into every crack, every crevice, every finger-hole.

She couldn't even bear to touch it.

She wanted to throw up.

She went looking for a bag, something made of plastic. If she could wrap it up, get it home, Dad could fix it. Dad could fix _anything_.

When she got back, the flute was gone. She couldn't see it anywhere. She had turned her back; she had lost it a second time.

One more torture to the many that already lay upon her shoulders.

_Oh god, what can I do now?_

She went to the bathroom, locked herself into a stall, and cried and cried.

* * *

Danny Hebert came home to find Taylor lying curled up on the sofa; the room lights were not on, and nor was the TV. She was staring at nothing, arms around her knees.

"Afternoon, kiddo," he said, then slowed. She had not answered him.

"Taylor?" he asked her.

She whimpered. It was the sound of an animal in the extremity of pain.

In an instant, he was seated on the sofa beside her, pulling her on to his lap. She clung to him desperately.

"God, Taylor," he said softly, patting her on the back gently as she started to cry, "what happened?"

"I didn't mean to," she sobbed. "I didn't mean it to happen. Oh god, I didn't want it to happen."

"What?" he asked her. "What happened?"

_Oh god,_ he thought. _She's been raped. Or she's had sex with a boy and she's pregnant. On top of everything else. Oh god._

"Who did it?" he asked automatically. "Who did this to you?" _I'll kill him,_ he thought. _I will seriously kill him._

"I took it to school," she said.

He couldn't follow her. _Took _**_what_**_?_

But she was speaking. "Mom's flute. I took it to school. Thought I could get through the day if I could go to my locker and look at it, hold it."

He knew the flute, knew it well. He'd given it to Taylor as something to remember her mother by. A cold feeling stole over him. "What happened?"

She was crying into his shirt, getting it wet. He couldn't have cared less. "Someone – someone took it from my locker. Wrecked it. Destroyed it. _Killed_ it. I couldn't touch it. Couldn't. It had ... _stuff_ on it."

Her misery was so complete that he could not even begin to raise any anger for her having taken something so precious to school. But she had said, it was in her locker. _Someone took it from her _**_locker_**_?_

"Where is it now, kiddo?" he asked, very gently.

"Went to get a bag," she sniffled. "But when I got back – it was gone. Like it was never there." She burst out crying all over again. "I should have grabbed it, kept it, not worried about the shit on it. I was so _stupid!"_

* * *

He held her, rocked her, while his heart burned with anger. Not at her; never at her. But anger at those heartless _scum_ who had made Taylor's life a living hell for the last two years.

"Who did it, Taylor?" he asked. "Do you know who did it?"

She looked up at him, her eyes reddened, her face tear-stained. "I think it was Emma. Or Sophia. Or Madison."

"Emma?" he asked. "Emma _Barnes?"_ He paused in confusion. "But she's your friend!"

She shook her head. "No, Dad," she said dully. "She hasn't been my friend since we started high school." And the tale tumbled out; the snide comments, the references to her mother, the shoves, pinches, trippings.

How she would find her clothes in the toilet, or thrown at her in the showers. How her classwork would be defaced or stolen and handed in by one of the three as their own. How her projects would be destroyed or sabotaged.

How it was always Emma, or Sophia, or Madison behind it. How they never quite did enough to be seen by a teacher. How her complaints had fallen on deaf ears; apparently two alibis were worth one complaint, and they _always_ backed each other up.

* * *

He listened, the anger turning to cold rage in his gut.

"Christ almighty," he ground out. "I'm going to ring Alan Barnes right now and –"

"No Dad, no," she pleaded, clutching at his sleeve, as though to stop him. "It won't do any good, really it won't. And it's over now anyway. Today was the last day before Christmas break. Maybe they'll have gotten bored of it by January. Found something else to do."

He saw her point, though he still wanted to ring Alan Barnes, and tell him a few home truths about his precious Emma. And the Clements girl ... he didn't even know her father. But he should know as well.

But Taylor had asked him not to.

"Well, fine," he said reluctantly. "But over this break, we're going to sit down and you're going to tell me everything that's been going on. _Everything._ Anything that's a possible criminal offence, we'll take special note of. And if they do _one goddamn thing_ to you come January, we take the lot to the police. I am not letting them get away with one single more goddamn thing." He held her tightly. "Ever."

Taylor hugged him back. She loved him so much; he felt more like her father than he had, these last few months.

"Thanks, Dad," she said softly. "I've –"

"You've what?" he asked gently.

"I've been writing down what they've been doing, since September," she said. "Every day."

His head came up, and he looked at her. "Right," he said. "I want to see that. In fact, I'm going to look around for a legal aid expert, and see how much of what you've written down is actionable in court. So if they start up again ..." He didn't have to finish.

"I can get that for you," she said. "Plus the emails they've been sending me."

"Bad?" he asked quietly.

She nodded, her head down. "I ... I didn't want to bother you."

He drew in a deep breath. "I ... haven't been much of a father, lately," he admitted. "But I'm back now. You're my daughter, and I love you, and I will defend you to the very last breath in my body."

She relaxed into his embrace. Tears came to her eyes again, but they were tears of a different kind.

_Dad's going to help. It's all going to be okay._

* * *

"But you've got to be able to do something with it!" Danny protested, trying to keep his voice down. Beside him, Taylor shrank into her chair, head down.

"I'm really sorry," said the legal aid representative, carefully sorting the papers on the desk. "The emails are all from throwaway accounts. The people who sent them obviously chose them for that purpose." He looked directly at Taylor. "Personally, I have no doubt that they are all from these people you speak of, but proving it in court is a far different matter."

"Okay," said Danny. "The other things. How about them?"

The rep cleared his throat. "Frankly, Mr Hebert, I am astonished and appalled at the systematic campaign of bullying that has been going on here. Your daughter does not seem to be the attention-seeking type that would create such a thing from whole cloth. But."

He put his hand on the pile of papers. "All of this is simply ink on paper. She would have to be cross-examined about each and every incident, and the defending attorney would do his best to shake her story, or produce witnesses that brought them into doubt."

His lips tightened. "If I had even the slightest shred of hope that justice could be wrung out of what is written in here, I would urge you to take it to the courts. But if, as you say, the chief offender's father is an attorney in his own right, then he has tricks he can play, even if you win."

He sighed. "I will put you in touch with people I know, people who might see more than I can in this. I _can_ take it myself, if you insist, but I can already see how it would turn out, and that way is badly, for yourselves."

"Right," said Danny heavily. "Well, thank you for your time." He stood, picked up the papers, and shook the man's hand briefly.

"I wish I could do more," said the rep.

"So do I," said Danny shortly.

The door closed behind him.

The legal aid representative got up and put on his coat.

Cases like this depressed him. _I need a drink._

* * *

Danny eyed Taylor over the table that night at dinner. She was silent, withdrawn, pale. Her food had been pushed around the plate, but barely touched.

He reached out and touched her arm; she jumped.

"Are you okay, kiddo?" he asked gently.

She nodded; barely a movement, her hair swayed gently. He could not see her eyes.

"It's okay," he said, with enthusiasm he didn't feel. "We'll go and see someone else tomorrow. Someone better."

She shook her head. "Won't make any difference." Her voice was barely audible.

"Of course it will," he said heartily, but there was nothing behind it. _Christ, who am I trying to convince?_ he asked himself. _Me or her? Because I know she isn't, and I don't think I am either._

"Okay," he said. "Just hang in there, all right? Things will get better."

She raised her eyes to his, very slightly. The doubt he saw in them tore at his heart.

_I'm supposed to be her _**_father_**_!_ he raged. Silently, impotently. _I'm supposed to _**_protect _**_her! How the goddamn fucking hell can I do that against this?_

And then he looked at her again, and he felt a faint chill of worry. People in Taylor's position had committed suicide before, and they would again.

_Christ,_ he thought. _Not my girl. Not Taylor. I couldn't stand that. I'd die first._

"Can you do me a favour and clear the dishes?" he asked gently. "I need to go to the bathroom."

She nodded faintly, and rose to clear the table. He went upstairs.

He used the bathroom, all right. But he also removed all the dangerous pills from the bathroom cabinet, and the straight razor he favoured for shaving over the disposable type. _If she killed herself with that ... I'd never forgive myself._

* * *

By the time he came downstairs, she had started on the dishes, and he gave her a hand. They chatted while they did it; or rather, he chatted, and she gave him nods, shakes of the head, and monosyllabic replies.

They watched TV for a while after that; or rather, the TV was on, and they sat in front of it. Taylor barely seemed to be taking any of it in, and Danny was trying to figure out what to say to her, to tell her that he loved her, to please, oh goddamn please don't kill herself.

Eventually, she got up from the sofa. He got up too, switching the TV off.

"Night, Dad," she said quietly into the silence. "Thanks for trying, today."

He put his arms around her and hugged her tightly. "And we'll keep trying," he assured her. "Together." He put his hand under her chin, tilted her head up so that her eyes met his. "And Taylor?"

She looked at him, her eyes vast and melancholy. "Yes, Dad?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

"If you ever need to talk to me about _anything_, no matter how bad, no matter when, no matter where, or even if you just need me to hold you, I _will_ be there for you. I _will_ make time. No matter what. I promise. Okay?"

The urgency in his voice seemed to get through to her, and she smiled, very slightly. "Okay, Dad," she said, in a slightly stronger voice. "Thanks."

She held him tightly for a moment longer, then padded up the stairs to bed.

* * *

She lay in bed and stared out at the darkness. It didn't matter whether her eyes were open or closed, whether she looked into reality or into her thoughts. It was all darkness.

_I don't see how I can go on,_ she told herself. _I've got nothing more. They've taken it all away from me. I don't even have my flute anymore._

She clenched her eyelids shut, but burning tears still leaked out on to the pillow.

_Dad tries, and he loves me, but ... it's not enough. He has to think of other things, and I can't be in his thoughts every second of the day. I have to be strong, and I can't. I'm out of strength. There's no more._ She felt the void filling her chest. She didn't even have the strength to cry any more. _I'm done. I'm finished. They've won._

She found herself idly wondering how she was going to kill herself. At the thought, she said to herself, _that's _**_terrible_**. But she realised that she didn't mean it. She only thought it _should_ be terrible.

And then, a new thought struck her. _Oh god,_ she thought. _This is what Dad was talking about. _

_He said, any time I need him to hold me, he would be there to hold me._

_I need him to hold me, now._

* * *

Danny Hebert opened his eyes from a light doze.

"Wstfgl?" he asked.

"Dad?" came Taylor's voice from the darkness.

"Taylor?" he asked, becoming alert in an instant. "What's up?"

"Can I get in with you, just for a while?" she asked, her voice near tears. "I need you to hold me. Please."

"Of course," he agreed, lifting the covers. "Get in quick, it's cold out there."

She slid into bed quickly, shivering slightly. "It's really cold out there," she agreed. He gathered her into his arms to warm her up. She snuggled close to him gratefully. Her skin was chilly to the touch.

He held her close. She held her arms close to her, enjoying the embrace. "What's the matter, kiddo?" he asked quietly.. "Did you want to talk about something?

After a moment, she shook her head. She didn't want to freak him out with talk of casual thoughts of suicide. "Just wanted you to hold me, Dad," she said softly. "I just needed to know that _someone_ in this crappy world loves me."

He smiled and went to kiss her on the forehead; in the darkness, it landed somewhere next to her left eye. She giggled anyway.

"Well, I do," he assured her. "And I always will."

He tightened his hold her; she snuggled into his warm embrace, safe and secure.

Slowly, they drifted off to sleep.

Just for this night, everything was okay.

* * *

End of Part 1


	2. Chapter 2

**Finding the Way**

* * *

Part 2: Shopping Daze

* * *

Taylor gradually eased into wakefulness. She felt strong arms, protective arms, holding her. She remembered.

_I was going to kill myself._

_I got Dad to hold me._

_I'm still alive._

Somehow, the morning light made everything look better.

She sat up in bed. "Dad," she said. "Let's go shopping."

* * *

Danny parked the truck outside the Weymouth mall, and looked with dismay at the crowds surging in and out of the building.

"Christ," he said despairingly. "We had to pick Christmas Eve to do our shopping."

Taylor grabbed his hand and grinned. "Come on, Ebenezer Scrooge. Let's go brave the crowds, and maybe grab each other a last-minute Christmas present while we're at it. Plus, clothes. I want to buy something that makes me look and feel different."

"And how _do_ you want to look and feel?" he asked curiously.

She grinned at him. "Like me, but better."

He sighed; her enthusiasm was infectious. Not resisting all that much, he allowed himself to be towed in among the massed crowds.

* * *

Herds of shoppers roamed the concourse, spooking suddenly and diving into those shops which displayed signs like SALE! and 50% OFF FOR XMAS! Taylor ignored those, heading for the shops that sold the clothes she liked. Then suddenly, she spotted something she wanted. "Dad –" she said.

He was looking in another direction. "Taylor –" he said.

They looked at each other. "I'll be right back," each said, at exactly the same time.

Taylor entered the shop; it wasn't one she normally went to. But it had what she wanted, and she knew he would like it, so she went all out this time.

As she exited the shop, she shoved her purchase into her handbag, so that Danny would not know what she'd gotten.

Picking a moment when he was looking the wrong way, she sneaked up to him. "I'm back," she said into his ear, and grinned when he jumped.

"So what did you get?" he asked. She noted that he was not showing her what he had gotten.

"Sorry, Dad, it's a secret till tomorrow. But I think you'll like it." She grinned and grabbed his hand again. "Come on. Clothes await."

* * *

And then she saw her. Emma. Along with Sophia and Madison. Right in the middle of the concourse. She recalled the flute, lying forlornly atop the heap of trash. And she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that one of them had taken it, just to screw with her head a little more.

She let go her father's hand, and marched up to Emma. Emma was chatting to Sophia, didn't see her immediately. Sophia saw her, eyes widening slightly.

"Emma," she said clearly. "I want it back. I don't care how. I won't press criminal charges. But I do want it back."

Emma stared at her. "Want what back, Hebert? Your mom?" There was a titter from the girls around her, and then Danny loomed over her.

"That was cruel and uncalled for, Emma Barnes," he said from right behind her. "I believe I will tell your father what you just said."

She jumped about six inches in the air. Taylor was still fighting down the anger and pain that the mention of her mother had brought up. She raised her voice. "Sophia, Madison. I don't care who's got it. I don't care what state it's in. My mother's flute. I want it back."

"Or what?" sneered Sophia. With an eye toward Danny, who was still glaring at Emma, she added, "Not that I know where your stupid flute is. But just asking."

Taylor looked her dead in the eye. "Sophia," she said. "You do not want to find that out." Her tone was flat, dead level. She had no idea what she meant, what sort of threat she was making, or how she was going to carry it out, but the flinch that she got from Sophia was worth more than gold bullion.

Reaching out, she grabbed Danny's hand. "Come on," she said. "We're done here."

She towed him away through the crowds; his head was still turned toward Emma; fixing her with a glare.

* * *

"Uh ... Soph?" said Emma, once Mr Hebert and Taylor were out of sight. _How the hell can a man that tall sneak up on me like that?_

"No," said Sophia steadfastly.

"I haven't even told you what I want."

Sophia shook her head. "I know what you want. You want to clear little Miss Tayor's locker out before the third. Before school lets back in."

"Well – yeah," said Emma. "When she opens it, and there's all that crap in there, she'll be able to point to me as someone who did it, and her father will be able to back her up as a witness."

Sophia sneered. "One comment? Not connected to her locker? Like he'll be able to make _that_ stick."

Emma shook her head. "Soph, I could really get in trouble here."

Sophia gave her a flat stare. "Funny, I thought I just heard a whiner speaking, not a survivor."

Emma shut up. But she didn't stop worrying.

Sophia was also thinking. _Hebert's growing a spine at last? I want to see how this plays out._

* * *

"I don't believe she said that to you," Danny said. "I really don't. I am going to be calling Alan as soon as we get home. Emma needs to be spoken to."

Taylor nodded. "Okay, Dad," she said. "She said it in your hearing. It's not me causing problems for her." She stopped and gave him a hug.

"What's that for?" he asked, but he hugged her back anyway.

"For being here. For hearing that. For giving Emma a bad moment." She giggled. "The look on her face! I'm going to treasure that moment."

He didn't look pleased. "What she said ..."

"Is no worse than what she's said a hundred times before," said Taylor wearily. "It's just that, this time you heard her." She looked up. "Ah, here we are."

* * *

Danny found himself relegate to sitting in a chair, giving critiques on the clothes she took into the changing room and thereafter emerged wearing. He deliberately approved those clothes with the brightest colours, including some summer-weight outfits which looked particularly fetching on her. A couple of the t-shirts looked like they would show some belly; he figured that by the time it got warm enough to wear them, she would have firmed up her abdominal muscles some.

She came over to him with her purchases, and kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks for that, Dad," she said with a giggle. "I appreciate it." Grabbing him by the hand once more, she dragged him away again. "Let's get something to eat from the food court before we try to get out of here."

"Good point," he said,

* * *

The food court was packed, of course, but she and Danny managed to grab themselves some food and a table. They dropped their purchases under the table and started eating. Danny found himself watching Taylor.

She finally noticed this, and coloured slightly "Why are you looking at me like that, Dad?" she asked, a little self-consciously. "Have I got something in my teeth or something?"

He shook his head with a smile. "No, kiddo," he said fondly. "I'm just enjoying sitting here, eating with my daughter."

She grinned at him. "My dad's pretty cool, too."

* * *

It was at that moment that Taylor felt a tap on the shoulder. She looked around curiously; a teenage girl with dirty blonde hair up in some sort of braid, and a knowing smile, was standing there.

"Excuse please, could we borrow your salt?" asked the girl.

Taylor shrugged. "Sure," she said, and handed it over.

The girl took it, then leaned in. "It'll get better," she said quietly. "Trust your dad; he'll help you through the rough patches."

And then, before Taylor could do more than turn and stare at her, she was gone.

* * *

"What was that all about, Lisa?"

"The girl there?" said Lisa. "She's considering suicide. I just tried to give her a bit of a boost."

Brian frowned, then gave up on it. Lisa would do what Lisa would do.

"Anyway," he said. "Time's a'wasting. And we still haven't done our shopping."

"Don't see why we have to."

Brian sighed. "Because we're a team, Rachel. And teams do things together."

"I hate this. Hate the crowds. And they won't let me bring the dogs inside."

Brian and Lisa shared a glance for a second. Bitch in this crowd, with dogs at her disposal? It would be frankly horrifying.

Alec chuckled. "Now, _that_ I'd like to see. You'd clear the place out faster than an Endbringer siren."

Lisa and Brian spoke at the same time. "Shut up, Alec."

* * *

In the truck, on the way home, Danny spoke up.

"So, what was that about, in the food court?" he asked. "What did that girl say to you?"

"I'm still working that out," she said quietly. But her hand crept across to take hold of his.

* * *

End of Part 2


	3. Chapter 3

**Finding the Way**

* * *

Part 3 – Christmas Break

* * *

She heard the shower running, and realised that he was up. Climbing out of bed, she put on her running gear, and headed out for her morning run. By the time summer rolled around, she wanted to be able to wear her belly tees without shame, after all.

By the time she got back, he was in the kitchen, cooking breakfast.

"Good morning, Dad," she said cheerfully, stealing a strip of bacon.

"Merry Christmas, kiddo," he said, and kissed her on the cheek. "Breakfast will be on the table by the time you finish your shower, and then we can open the presents."

When breakfast was over, they went and sat by the small tree. Putting the presents under it seemed like a silly little Christmas tradition to have, but it kept them together as a family.

Taylor reached under the tree and pulled out a large rectangular parcel, which she handed to her father. He read the label - _To Dad, from Taylor and Mom _- and his eyes filled with tears. He hugged her silently; they never spoke of it, but at least one present every Christmas had her mother's name on it, to keep her alive in their memories.

When he opened the present, he hugged her again; it was the _Definitive Guide to the History of Brockton Bay and Its Environs_ that he had been looking for, for some months now.

"Thank you, Taylor," he said. "I really appreciate it."

She grinned at him, leaning into the hug. "I love you, Dad," she said fondly.

"I love you too, kiddo," he said, and handed her a package of her own

She opened it, noting that her mother had also had a hand in getting this parcel to her, and discovered that she was the owner of a brand new top-of-the-line electronic tablet.

"Oh wow, Dad," she sad. "This is so cool.". She turned around and hugged him, giving him a kiss on the cheek. He held her tightly, just for the moment enjoying the togetherness.

Other presents changed hands; he had gotten her a brightly coloured sundress when she was not looking. She was so enchanted with the sundress that she disappeared into the kitchen to put it on in favour of her bathrobe.

In return, she gave him the gift she had seen in the Weymouth Mall; an authentic-looking pocket watch. He promptly spend the next few minutes making sure it was set to the right time.

After he finished doing that, he picked up the two last parcels and handed one to her. "One of these is for me, and one is for you," he said solemnly. "Let's just say, it's a matching pair."

Curious, she opened hers, to find a mobile phone. Frowning, she looked from it to the identical model that he held. "Dad, I thought you didn't like these things," she said.

"I don't," he said bluntly. "But ... I worry about you, running on your own. So I got you that. It's got my number on speed dial, and all other numbers blocked. Mine is set up the same way for yours."

"Wow, Dad," she said softly. "That's so sweet.". She hugged him tightly. "I really appreciate that."

He nodded. "I know, kiddo," he said softly. "I know."

* * *

The rest of the Christmas break passed without incident. Taylor and Danny, having connected, gradually began to bond once more as father and daughter. She opened up about her feelings; he reciprocated.

On the first day of school, he dropped her off at the bus stop on his way to work. She hugged him and gave him a kiss on the cheek before he drove off, and she sat down to wait for the bus. She had her phone in her back pocket; not that she thought she'd need it, but it was something he got for her because he cared, and so she carried it.

As she watched the scenery pass her by on the way to Winslow, she thought about the fears and apprehensions that were bothering her.

_I wouldn't worry about it_, she told herself. _Nothing's probably going to happen anyway._

* * *

End of Part 3


	4. Chapter 4

**Finding the Way**

* * *

Part 4: the Locker Incident

* * *

**3:17 PM**

* * *

Director Emily Piggot of the Parahuman Response Teams steepled her fingers and observed the armoured man sitting on the other side of the desk.

"I understand there was an incident at Winslow High School this morning," she said to him. "I'll have your verbal report now."

Armsmaster cleared his throat. "We received a report at eight forty-five this morning, regarding criminal cape activity at Winslow."

"Shadow Stalker's school," Piggot put in, to show she was following matters.

Armsmaster nodded. "We attended the location. The first suspicious thing we found was a vehicle crashed into one of the school gates. The driver was nowhere around, but there was evidence suggesting that he had suffered a head injury in the accident. Running the plates gave us the name Daniel Hebert."

* * *

**8:35 AM**

* * *

Danny Hebert tapped at the keys of his computer, and frowned. More paperwork screwups, all done before the Christmas break, all coming to his attention now. He sighed. _If they'd just paid attention to what they were doing, rather than watching the clock ..._

But done was done. The screwups had happened, and fixing them was his job.

A beeping from his pocket made him frown again. _Taylor?_ He didn't like mobile phones; one had featured rather too closely in his wife's death. But since Taylor was going to be running in the mornings, he had gotten them each one for Christmas, so she could call him if she needed help. Each was a throwaway with prepaid credit, either one blocked to all numbers but the other phone's.

He fished the phone from his pocket, accidentally dropped it, bent down to pick it up, and finally opened it. Pressing the green button, he held the device to his ear. "Taylor?" he said. "Shouldn't you be in class?"

"_Daaaad_!" she screamed, so loudly that he had to hold the phone away from his ear. _"Dad! Help me, oh god, help me, please!"_

She was sobbing and retching, and in the background, he could hear a metallic banging.

He was on his feet in an instant, phone pressed tightly to his ear. She sounded hysterical, panicked, terrified. "Taylor! I'm coming! Where are you?"

"_Locker_!" she sobbed. _"Oh god Dad, get me out get me out get me OUTTTTTTTT!"_

More crashing and banging, and suddenly there was a loud thump as if the phone had been dropped. Distantly he heard her panicked babbling, more retching, and much louder banging.

_Taylor. Oh my god, Taylor._

"I'm coming!" he shouted into the phone as loudly as he could, in the hope that she would hear him. "I'm coming! Just hold on!"

Leaving the phone open, he dropped it into his pocket, and dashed from his office. The people in the outer office, startled by the shouting, stared at him as he ran through.

"Mr Hebert ...?" ventured one of them.

"No time!" he shouted. "Family emergency!". Crashing out through the outer door, he sprinted for his truck, feeling for his keys at the same time.

The old engine caught first time, and he crashed it into gear. Still putting on his seat belt, he made the old truck roar as he accelerated for the road.

_Taylor. ... Oh god, what have they done to you?_

* * *

**3:19 PM**

* * *

"We entered the school, and found everything in an uproar," continued Armsmaster imperturbably. " A school locker had been vandalised, the door pried open. The smell was quite bad; biological waste had been packed into it and was now strewn across the floor. The cleaning staff were attempting to deal with the mess, but hadn't done very much with it. Subsequent examination of records revealed that the locker had been assigned to one Taylor Hebert. Daniel Hebert's daughter," he added unnecessarily.

He paused. "In among the biological waste," he added, not going into details as to what the waste consisted of, "we found one interesting item.". He indicated one of the two bagged objects on the desk They both looked at it; it was a flute, which had been quite badly damaged, and had some vile-looking material smeared all over it.

"Now, what do you suppose _that_ signifies?" pondered the Director.

"Ma'am, I have no idea," confessed Armsmaster. "I think we're going to have to ask Taylor Hebert."

* * *

**8:24 AM**

* * *

The bell was due to ring any minute now, and Taylor would have to go into class. First day back from Christmas Break.

She'd been loitering in the bathroom; despite her brave face at standing up to Emma and the others in the Weymouth mall, she really didn't want to confront them again this soon. But she had to get her stuff out of her locker, and so ...

Approaching her locker, she saw several other students hanging around. She hoped that it was just her imagination that made it seem that they were watching her. _Just get my books and go._

There was a smell. A really bad smell. And it seemed to be hanging around her locker.

She started getting a really bad feeling about this. But she had to see.

_What have they _**_done_**_?_

She couldn't just back away, couldn't walk into class without her books. Besides, this was the new, confident, strong Taylor. _A bad smell can't stop _**_me_**_._

She spun the combination lock, opened the locker.

The stench rolled out at her, enveloped her, suffocated her.

The locker was half full of … _oh my god, tampons and pads._ All blackened with semi-dried, rotted blood. Insects crawled in among them.

The smell was _indescribable_. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. Everything in her locker was ruined. Involuntarily, she bent over to retch, to throw up.

And then she felt a shove, propelling her into the locker, into the filth. She felt it wrap around her legs, oozing, insect crawling, as she slammed into the back wall of the locker.

The door slammed behind her, cutting off the light. She heard excited voices outside, then the whirr of the combination lock being spun. She turned around in the tight confines, still retching, shoved at the door. It was locked.

She was shut in with the filth.

She drew a deep breath, vomited all over herself, warm puke all down her front. Drew another breath. "Let me out!" she tried to scream. It came out as a strangled gargle. She cleared her throat, clawed vomitus from her mouth with her fingers, screamed again. "LET ME OUT!"

Dim laughter from outside.

She banged at the locker door, her thoughts spiralling toward panic. The smell, the insects, the darkness.

"Oh god oh god let me out please please please!" she screamed, the begging tone evident in her voice.

She threw up again. It did not appreciably change the smell in the locker.

Oozing, sticky biological waste surged around her thighs. Insects, disturbed by the movement, crawled out of the pile and up her body, up the sides of the locker, into her hair, running across her face.

She screamed, pounded on the door, threw herself at the sides of the locker, clawed at her own face and eyes.

More cruel laughter from outside.

The bell rang.

_Maybe they'll let me out now._

But they didn't.

They left her there.

Screaming, retching, struggling, banging on the door, throwing herself around inside the locker, she tried to get out. Failed. Her mind started spiralling in tighter and tighter turns, toward madness.

She recalled the phone Dad had given her. It was in her back pocket. She clawed for it. Found it. Nearly dropped it. Slumped against the side of the locker, clawed it open, pressed dial. Only one number.

It rang. She sobbed, retched again.

And rang. _Dad, Dad, answer me, Dad._

His voice. Normal, vaguely annoyed. The most wonderful, wonderful sound in the world.

_"Taylor? Shouldn't you be in class?"_

"Daaaad!" she screamed, so loudly that her voice reverberated inside the locker. "Dad! Help me, oh god, help me, please!"

She sobbed and retched, and kicked at the locker door.

_"Taylor! I'm coming! Where are you?"_

"Locker!" she sobbed. "Oh god Dad, get me out get me out get me OUTTTTTTTT!" An insect ran over her eyeball; she screamed and flinched her whole body; the phone dropped out of her vomit-slick hand, into the ... stuff.

She didn't want to delve her hand into that stuff. The very thought made her retch again. She could vaguely hear his voice, tinny, distant. Couldn't hear what he was saying. Reached for the phone. Accidentally pushed it farther down into the mess. Lost touch with it.

"Dad!" she screamed, banging at the locker door. "Help me! Oh god, get me out of here!" She plunged her hands into the stinking mess, searching for the phone. It was her only lifeline, her only hope. _I have to find it._

* * *

**8:37 AM**

* * *

Danny weaved through traffic, foot flat to the floorboards, intent on only one thing. _I have to get to Taylor_. The heel of his hand blared the horn, startling other drivers out of the way. The engine of the old truck, unused to such demands, still responded gamely, even as the temperature needle crept into the red.

* * *

**3:20 PM**

* * *

"It was at this point," continued Armsmaster, "that we received a police report about an incident involving a vehicle matching the description of the one belonging to Daniel Hebert."

* * *

**8:38:23 AM**

* * *

Taylor scrabbled frantically through the horrid detritus, sobbing and retching. _I have to find it._

Danny downshifted, powered through a gap. Saw lights up ahead. _Stay green,_ he prayed. _I have to get to Taylor._

* * *

The world went away.

Taylor and Danny hung in the void, side by side.

Around them, the vastness of empty space. In the far, far distance, stars and what may have been planets. Nearer, great bloated forms undulated through the cosmos. Something like worms, something like whales, quite unlike either. They brushed together, shedding bright spicules of matter, fragments, shards.

One of these ranged toward where Danny and Taylor hung, barely aware of each other, unable to speak, unable to even comprehend fully what was happening. It cracked, split, came apart. One fragment daggered into Danny, the other into Taylor.

* * *

The world came back.

Taylor was still trapped in the locker, still assaulted by that horrifying stench, still had bugs crawling over her. She was panicked, terrified, nauseated, overwhelmed. But in the small part of her brain that still had the capacity for rational thought, she _knew _where her phone was.

Plunging her hand into the muck, she closed her fingers over it, clung to it like a lifeline.

_Dad's coming._

* * *

Danny was still in the cab of his truck, horn blaring, engine thundering. Ahead, the lights turned red. The intersection rushed toward him. He wasn't even really aware of making the decision not to slow down, not to stop. _I have to save my little girl._

He rocketed into the intersection.

At the same time, a semi-truck, which had been downshifting for the red, changed up and accelerated. Danny was right in his path. There was not a thing either one of them could do.

He saw it coming from the corner of his eye, knew he was dead.

His last thought was one of simple regret.

_I'll never see Taylor grow up now._

* * *

The driver of the semi-truck slammed on his brakes. He knew it wouldn't do a damn bit of good, but he tried anyway.

In the instant before he would have ploughed into the driver's side of the pickup truck, it disappeared in a cloud of brownish-purple smoke. Which his truck blasted right through. No tearing crunch. No impact at all. There was just the dissipating cloud of smoke.

The truck driver pulled over, put his face in his hands, and shook. After a while, he pulled out his phone and dialled the police. _They should know about this_, he figured. Besides, he wan't up to driving a Dodgem car, right at that moment.

* * *

Danny became aware of ticking and creaking. He could also hear Taylor's voice, tinny and far away, calling for him. He was slumped over the steering wheel of his truck, the engine stopped or stalled. There was a massive star in the windshield directly in front of him, with a little blood smeared around it. His left knee ached abominably. He couldn't see out of his right eye at all, and his left was fuzzy. He had no idea where his glasses were.

_I have to get to Taylor. I have to save her._

He wrenched the truck door open, half-fell out, climbed painfully to his feet.

The truck was crunched up against one of the concrete posts that held up the gates outside Winslow High. He didn't question how he came to be there; he just started staggering toward the school.

* * *

He must have blacked out for a moment, because he found himself in the school hallway, next to a row of lockers. And Taylor's voice, hysterical and terrified, was coming from one of them, along with loud banging.

"Taylor!" he shouted, stumbling over to the locker. His head ached abominably; he ignored it. His fingers scrabbled at the door. "Taylor! I'm here! I'll get you out!"

* * *

Inside the locker, she heard him. "Dad? _Dad? _**_DAAAAAAD!_**"

* * *

The sheer need and anguish in her voice tore his heart in two, right down the middle. He twirled the combination lock uselessly; he couldn't even see the numbers. _I have to get her out._

_Pry bar. I have a pry bar, in the truck._ He knew exactly where it was, could visualise it, behind the seat. "I'll get a pry bar from the truck!" he shouted. "I'll be right back!"

* * *

_He's going away. No. He can't leave me here._

"Dad! No! Please don't go!" she screamed hysterically.

* * *

Danny stared at what he held in his right hand. _Must've blacked out again,_ he thought dully. For he was holding the pry bar, but for the life of him, he could not recall going to the truck and getting it out.

He vaguely supposed that he should be concerned. Blackouts were not a good thing. But right now he had other things to worry about. Such as getting this door open.

Setting the pry bar in the door crack, he heaved. It gave, a little. He set it deeper, heaved again. Abruptly, the lock gave, and the door sprang open. Taylor fell out, into his arms. He clasped her tightly; she clung to him desperately. She stank abominably, was covered in vomit, and had small horrible blackened things clinging to her legs and arms; his face and chest were half covered in gore from a badly bleeding scalp wound. Neither of them cared; they were together.

* * *

**3:22 PM**

* * *

"The principal's statement indicated that Daniel and Taylor appeared in her office in a cloud of smoke at approximately eight forty-one AM," continued Armsmaster. "He shouted at her, swung a weapon at her, made a threat, and then disappeared again."

They both looked at the other item on the desk. A metal pry-bar, old and scuffed. It was also contained in a plastic bag.

* * *

**8:41 AM**

* * *

_I'm taking this to the principal. Give her a piece of my mind._

Danny could not recall staggering to the principal's office, half-carrying Taylor. But he must have, because there she was, right in front of him. She started up out of her chair.

"Mr Hebert!" she snapped. "What is the meaning of this?"

A couple of the horrid items from the locker peeled from Taylor's leg, fell to the carpet. All of the calm, reasoned words Danny had been going to use just went out of his head.

"You fucking did this!" he shouted. "You let this happen!"

He brought the pry bar up and over, down on to the desk; the sharp tip smashed through a desk calculator and embedded itself in the wood beneath. When he let the metal bar go, it quivered slightly, and stayed where it was.

"Dad ...". Taylor's voice was barely a whimper. She bent forward and threw up bile on the carpet.

"Don't worry, kiddo, I'll get you to the hospital," he promised_._ He pointed one shaking finger at the principal. "I'll be fucking _back_," he promised.

Scooping his daughter into his arms, he turned to leave ... and found himself stumbling in through the emergency room doors. The nurse on duty looked up from her crossword puzzle, her eyes widening in shock. Danny was at the end of his strength; he crumpled to the floor, in his last extremity twisting so that he took the impact and not Taylor.

He never heard the shouts of alarm, the running feet. Never felt himself being lifted on to a stretcher.

* * *

**3:24 PM**

* * *

"We checked the hospitals, of course," Armsmaster stated. "They were checked in under their own names. Daniel Hebert, suffering from trauma consistent with a car crash, Taylor with numerous minor cuts and bruises, plus infectious materials all over her. It's fairly obvious that she was locked into that locker by person or persons unknown, along with the biohazard waste. She contacted him to get her out, and he triggered in his anxiety to reach her."

Director Piggot considered this. "You will have turned over all your gathered evidence to the police, of course. This sort of thing is deeply disturbing."

He nodded. "Already done, ma'am."

"And the Heberts? Have you spoken to them yet?"

He shook his head. "We have guards on them, but he's still unconscious from his injuries, and she's been sedated until they could assess her condition.". He grimaced. "They had to burn her clothes.". He paused. "I have contacted New Wave and asked them if Panacea can help. She should be getting to the hospital fairly soon, and meeting Miss Militia there. If Hebert can teleport reliably across the city, carrying someone, even while injured, we could definitely use him in the Protectorate."

The Director nodded. "Keep me informed."

He rose and saluted. "Will do, ma'am."

* * *

End of Part 4


	5. Chapter 5

**Finding the Way**

* * *

Part 5: Revelations

* * *

Panacea met Miss Militia in the hospital corridor.

"Where _is_ everyone?" she asked, keeping her voice low by habit.

"We've had the ward cleared," Miss Militia replied. "Daniel Hebert's a newly triggered cape, with a head injury. His daughter was the reason he triggered." Swiftly, she filled Panacea in on the facts as she knew them. "They've got him stable, but we'd really like you to have a look at him."

"I don't do brains," said Panacea reflexively.

Miss Militia shook her head. "I'm not asking you to. But this guy teleported a truck halfway across the city. And teleported himself and his daughter from his school to here, _after_ he got the head injury. He could be a huge asset to the Protectorate."

Panacea nodded briefly. "I'll see what I can do." She walked into the room, pushed aside the curtain.

* * *

Daniel Hebert was a tall, skinny man. He had a splint on his left leg, and bloodstained bandages on his head. Panacea looked at him for a long moment_. He got injured trying to get to his daughter and save her._

_He must love her very much._

_She's so lucky._

She laid her hands on his, and went to work.

* * *

Danny's eyes fluttered open. _Where …?_ He made an incoherent noise in his throat. _Taylor. Where's Taylor?_

"Shh … shhh," said a voice soothingly. "It's all right." The voice was young, and feminine. Not Taylor, though.

He knew where Taylor was, however. She was about four yards _that_ way. He rolled his head over to look in that direction. There was a curtain there. Taylor was asleep or unconscious. He had no idea how he knew that.

"Mr Hebert," came the soft voice once more. "Can you hear me?" He turned to look. A hooded girl, white robes, a cross on the front. _Panacea, from New Wave._

"Nggg hrrrr yng," he mumbled.

Her hand lifted his head gently, and a cup of water was held to his lips. He drank clumsily, but most of it went down his throat, rehydrated his parched mouth.

"I can hear you," he said, once he finished drinking. "Thanks. Is Taylor all right?"

He thought she smiled. "She'll be fine. I had to deal with you first. Do you know what happened to you?"

He blinked; his hands came up reflexively to his face. "How can I see you so well? Where are my glasses?"

"I gave you a little impromptu eye surgery," she explained. "I hope you don't mind."

He shook his head. "I guess not. What happened?"

"I was hoping you could tell me," she said gently. "See what your memories are like."

* * *

Widower, his file said. One daughter. _Taylor._

Her powers told her more; he was in reasonable health for his age, non-smoker, non-drinker. Not overly fit, but not inclined to put on weight. _ Still has all his teeth, had his appendix out years ago_.

No apparent brain damage that she could see. Which was a good thing. _I don't do brains. Not even for the new up-and-coming wunderkind teleporter that they say he is._

* * *

"I … was at work," he said hesitantly. "Taylor called. Said she was trapped in a locker. I started driving over there. Ran a red light." He stopped, looking at her.

"Go on," she said with a smile. "I'm not here to bust you for that."

He nodded. "Next thing I knew, the truck's piled up in front of the school gates. I went to go in, blacked out, found myself outside her locker. I wanted to open it, so I got my pry-bar and opened it. Got Taylor out, went to the principal's office, gave her a piece of her mind, got Taylor to the hospital." He frowned. "Not sure how. The truck was pretty beat up."

She nodded. "Mr Hebert, there's more to it than that." She looked around, gestured to Miss Militia, who was chatting to Glory Girl. _I _**_told _**_Vicky she'd get bored, but she insisted on coming._

* * *

"What?" he asked. He began to struggle to sit up. _Is it about Taylor? Oh my god, Taylor!_

"Please relax, Mr Hebert," she urged him. "You had a fractured skull, a subdural haematoma and a shattered left kneecap, along with various minor contusions. You've also lost blood. You are going to feel weak for a little while. Please don't strain yourself."

Miss Miltitia came straight over. Danny grabbed Panacea's arm. "Is Taylor all right?" he asked urgently.

"She'll be fine," she told him again. "I'm just going to look in on her now." She glanced at Miss Miltitia. "His memories and mental acuity check out just fine," she assured the older hero.

Miss Militia nodded. "Thank you, Panacea," she said. She sat down alongside the bed. "Mr Hebert – Daniel," she said. "Is it okay if I call you Daniel?"

"Danny," he said reflexively. "No-one ever calls me Daniel."

"Danny," she repeated. "Well, then, do you know why I'm here to talk to you, Danny?"

He frowned. "Um … no. Did a supervillain shut Taylor in the locker?"

She chuckled. "No. It's more simple than that. Do you know how you got from the school to the hospital?"

His frown deepened. "Uhhh … not really?"

He could see the smile stretching the scarf around her mouth. "You have powers, Danny. You're a teleporter."

But he wasn't paying attention any more.

* * *

Taylor felt herself gradually emerging from sleep. She didn't want to wake up. She wanted to stay down there in the nice safe soft warm darkness, where the horror of the locker wasn't. She was scared that she'd just gone away from herself for a while, and when she came back, she'd still be in the locker.

But she woke up anyway. She was looking up at a blurry accoustic-tile ceiling, and a girl in a white hooded costume, one with a red cross on the front. She was a little slower to recognise Panacea than Danny, because the last of the sedatives were still clearing themselves out of her system.

* * *

Panacea knew that she would be more lucid in just a minute. Her system was strong; she was a fundamentally healthy person.

_She gets her skinny genes from her dad; she'll never be overweight. Poor girl will never get past a B-cup. _

And then Taylor seemed to come into focus.

* * *

_Where am I -?_

And she _knew_, even as she posed the thought.

_Brockton Bay General Hospital, third floor, west wing, second ward, bed 36._

_Where's Dad?_

_Four yards _**_that _**_way._

_Alive, awake, concerned, thinking about me._

_Aww, that's so sweet. I love you too, Dad._

The girl – _Panacea, of New Wave_, she recalled now – looked at her with just a little concern as she closed her eyes again.

"Are you feeling all right, Miss Hebert?" she asked gently.

Taylor nodded. She sat up by herself, reached out, grabbed a cup, poured water from the plastic jug, drank.

She never once opened her eyes while she did it.

"I'm fine," she said, once she had swallowed. "Is Dad okay?"

* * *

"Taylor," said Danny, and sat up in bed. He swung his legs over the side, grunting in annoyance at the splint. Then he disappeared in a cloud of purple-brown smoke.

Panacea jumped as purple-brown smoke billowed out of nowhere, then dissipated to reveal Danny by Taylor's bedside. Taylor opened her eyes and hugged him tightly; his arms went around her, no less tightly.

"Dad …" she said, her face buried in his chest.

"Taylor …" he replied, tears leaking from his tightly shut eyes.

"Dad …"

"Taylor …"

They were silent for a moment then, as Miss Militia came around the curtains to stare at them.

"Damn," she said.

"That was precision teleporting, right there," said Panacea. "Six inches clearance in any direction."

"Damn," said Miss Militia again.

Danny let his grip around Taylor loosen just slightly, and he pulled back to look at her. "Are you all right, kiddo? Really all right?"

She nodded, tearfully. "Really all right," she said. "Now that you're here."

"Not going anywhere," he assured her.

"Uh, just so you know," interjected Panacea, "Taylor had several cuts and bruises and other contusions. Also, several minor infections. What the hospital staff did not fix, I did. So she's totally healthy."

"Thank you," said Danny, his relief heartfelt. "Thank you." He didn't let go of Taylor.

"And Dad?" said Taylor to Panacea. "Is he okay? That bandage … that splint …"

Panacea nodded. "He's fine. I healed the injuries he took. There was no appreciable brain damage."

"Thank you," said Taylor. "Really. Thank you."

Panacea smiled. "It was the least I could do." She paused. _I need to find out what happened._

"Miss Miliitia," she said, keeping her voice casual, "could you please take Mr Hebert for a walk, and tell him about what he needs to know? I need to have a talk with Miss Hebert here about some basic medical issues."

Miss Militia frowned, but nodded. "Danny," she said, "do you drink coffee? There's a machine down the hall that produces something that pretends to be the stuff …"

Danny allowed himself to be led away.

* * *

Panaceea turned to Taylor, who was looking puzzled. "What medical matters?" Taylor asked.

Panacea lowered her voice. "Taylor," she said carefully. "You can tell us. We need to stop whoever did this to you."

Taylor felt the emotions that had been assailling her in the locker all rush back, just for an instant.

Out in the corridor, Danny paused and almost turned back. Miss Militia stopped. "Danny," she said firmly, "Panacea said she wanted a _private_ conversation with your daughter."

He frowned and went on. _What just frightened her?_ Then he paused. _How did I know she was frightened just then?_

In an effort to distract himself, he turned to her. "Sorry," he said. "You were saying I'm a teleporter? When did that happen?"

She smiled. "In times of stress, Mr Hebert …"

* * *

"You want to know who put me _in_ that fucking locker?" demanded Taylor, her voice rising despite her intent to keep it quiet. "The same three bitches who have been making my life hell for the last two and a half years. They've been bullying me, taking my stuff, destroying it, and laughing at me. And nothing I do works, and they _always_ get away with it."

Panacea frowned. "So you know for a fact who put you in there?" she asked.

Taylor fell back on the pillow, her eyes closed. "Oh, I always _know_ who does it to me," she said, her arm over her face. "But I can never prove it, and no matter how many times I complain, they always walk. I have no idea why. Maybe someone in the faculty just hates me for some reason."

"That's terrible," said Panacea, reaching out and taking hold of her hand. "What are their names? Maybe we can pass them on to the school and ask that something be done."

Taylor sighed. "Fat fucking lot of use that'll do."

Panacea squeezed her hand. "I'll go myself," she promised.

Taylor chuckled. "I'd like to see that, actually. Okay, Emma Barnes –"

She _saw_ Emma, practising piano scales. And she knew exactly where she was; upstairs in her father's house.

_Wow, that's weird,_ she thought. _I've never seen her wearing _**_that _**_outfit._

"Yes?" asked Panacea.

"Oh, and Madison Clements," said Taylor. And as she said the name, concentrated on the person, she saw Madison curled up on a bed in a strange bedroom – 1743 South Privet Drive, she knew without knowing how she knew – talking on a mobile phone. She knew _exactly_ where Madison was.

_That's so weird_, she thought.

"And the third?" pressed Panacea.

"Uh, Sophia Hess," said Taylor. Of the three, Sophia was the one she was most scared of. Emma could hurt her with cutting words, and Madison with cruelly calculated pranks, but Sophia left bruises.

As she said the name, she saw Sophia. In a room she didn't recognise. Other figures were standing around here, but were blurry. But she _knew_ where the room was.

She took her hand away from her eyes. "That's really fucking weird," she said out loud.

"What is?" asked Panacea.

"Sophia Hess, at this moment, is in the PRT building, downtown. Talking to someone. Why is she there?"

Panacea stared at her, nonplussed. "What do you mean, she's in the PRT building?"

"I mean, she's in the fucking PRT building. Right now. Or I'm having the weirdest fucking hallucination." Taylor knew her language was getting away from her. "Sorry, sorry."

She saw Glory Girl looking around the door, drawn by her raised voice. "Sorry, my bad. Won't happen again." Glory Girl frowned and disappeared.

"Glory Girl," called Panacea. Vicky reappeared. "Could you get Miss Militia for me?"

Vicky nodded, and disappeared again.

* * *

Miss Militia had just talked Danny into stepping from one end of a length of hallway to the other and back, with the characteristic clouds of quickly-dissipating purple-brown smoke, when Glory Girl appeared at her side. "Panacea wants to see you," she said quietly.

Miss Militia turned to Danny. "I've got to –" she began., but Danny had already disappered.

"He doesn't even make a noise when he does it," she complained.

"Would you prefer something like 'bamf'?" quipped Glory Girl. Miss Militia shot her a dirty look.

* * *

When she got back, Taylor was sitting up in bed.

"I'm not kidding, Dad, I swear to you!" She was somewhat agitated, but she was holding both his hands in hers. "She's right there. Talking to someone. I can see it as clear as I can see you!"

Panacea met Miss Militia at the door. "Can you tell me if a student named Sophia Hess has been taken to the PRT building?" she asked quietly.

Miss Militia paused. "Why do you ask that?" she said carefully.

Panacea went to speak, then stopped. "Just humour me, okay?"

Miss Militia turned away and pulled out her comm.

"Miss Militia to base, please respond."

_"Base to Miss Militia, reading you five by five."_

"Base, I have a location request for Shadow Stalker, repeat, Shadow Stalker."

_"Miss Militia, I have Shadow Stalker on base, in conference with Aegis. Would you like a connection?"_

"Negative, Base. Miss Militia, out."

She turned back to Panacea. "You're right. She's there. How did you know?"

Panacea looked at her. "I think ... I think they _both_ triggered."

Miss Militia stared. _"Both?"_

Panacea nodded. "So … you have _two_ capes on your hands. And I think Taylor is a Thinker, a locator."

Miss Militia ran her fingers through her hair, looked over to where Taylor was sitting up, holding Danny closely. "Damn."

Panacea paused. "I have a question. Is Sophia Hess … a Ward?"

Miss Militia frowned. "I can't answer that. If she was, it might reveal her secret identity."

"But what if she was one of the people who put Taylor in that locker?"

Miss Militia stared. "Say that again."

It didn't sound any better the second time around.

* * *

End of Part Five


	6. Chapter 6

**Finding the Way**

* * *

Part 6: Sophia

* * *

"Oh, you have got to be fucking _kidding_ me," snarled Danny, looking as angry as Taylor had ever seen him. "One of the girls who's been giving Taylor hell for mor than _two years_ is a Ward, and you never picked up on it?"

Miss Militia looked rather embarrassed. Panacea stood off to the side, watching Taylor and Danny sympathetically.

Vicky joined her, watching Danny confront Miss Militia with interest.

"What's going on?" she asked in an undertone. "There's nothing else interesting happening around here. How come Mr Herbert's ripping chunks off Miss Militia?"

"It's 'Hebert'," Amy corrected her, "and they just found that one of the girls who shoved her in the locker was Shadow Stalker."

Vicky's eyes grew wide. "Well, _fuck,"_ she muttered. _"That's_ a fucking turn-up for the books."

"Mr Hebert – Danny – " said Miss Militia placatingly, "we try to give our Wards enough leeway to have normal lives while in school, though we also try to ensure that they can get away in order to carry out the superheroic side of their lives without too much trouble."

"So you tell the schools, she's a Ward, don't question any absences, and they decide that means, give her carte blanche to _bully other girls?"_ he shouted in her face. "Yeah, that's a really smart way to let them have their normal lives. Did you perhaps stop to fucking think that maybe her idea of a 'normal life' is to _hurt_ people? For _fuck's_ sake!"

Turning to Taylor, he said, "Okay, kiddo, let's go. I'm taking you home."

Miss Militia stepped forward. "Wait –"

"I'm. Fucking. Done. Waiting," he snarled. "You want me in the fucking Protectorate? Well, until your precious fucking Shadow Stalker is either behind bars or fucking _dead_, then forget it! Clean up your own fucking messes for once!"

And purple-brown smoke billowed around them, and they were gone.

"Damn," said Miss Militia. She looked at the other two. "For the _record_, I wanted to tell him that we still had his personal effects. And Taylor's."

"Right," said Panacea.

"Got it," said Glory Girl.

"Never doubted it," said Panacea.

"But if you want my advice …" said Glory Girl.

Miss Militia looked at her suspiciously.

"Do what he says. Fix this shit," said Glory Girl.

Panacea nodded. "Come down hard on Shadow Stalker and her friends. If she's guilty, throw the book at her. And _then_…"

Glory Girl nodded. "And then go to him and very humbly ask him to reconsider."

"And invite Taylor to join the Wards too, of course," agreed Panacea. "I doubt very much that they'll want to be apart."

Miss Militia frowned. "I'll be taking that under advisement." She nodded at the two of them. "I'll stand down the guards. Thank you for your assistance. Have a good day."

Amy nodded at Victoria. "Time we went," she said with a smile.

* * *

They appeared in the middle of the living room. The purple-brown cloud dissipated around them, and they looked around. It was undisturbed. Taylor clung tightly to him.

"Oh god, Dad," she murmured. "It was like a nightmare."

He nodded, holding her tight.

"But we're all okay now," he said softly. "All okay."

She wondered, inside, if she would ever be really okay again.

* * *

_"Shadow Stalker … please report to the Director's office … Shadow Stalker … please report to the Director's office."_

"Oh, what the _fuck?"_ Sophia snarled. She looked at Aegis. "Seriously? I just got through with talking to you over the thing at the school. Now I have to go talk to _her_ about it?"

"Hey," said Clockblocker, leaning lazily back against a computer terminal. "Miss Piggy isn't happy unless she hears about it first hand."

"You shouldn't call her that," said Aegis reprovingly, but there was no heat in his comment.

"Yeah, well," began Clockblocker, but the rest of what he heard was lost to Sophia as she went to change into costume.

She took just as long as she thought she could get away with, drawing it out, but finally the last accessory was placed just right, and her costume had no wrinkles in it anywhere. So she strode out of the Wards' area and entered the elevator that would take her to the officer of the regional Director of the PRT.

* * *

They walked out of the hospital, and Victoria scooped Amy into her arms.

It was fun, flying with Vicky. She felt so _safe_. Leaning against her sister's shoulder, she sighed.

"What's up, Ames?" asked Victoria with a smile. "That sounded sad."

"I just got a reminder that some things don't last forever. And that I should say some things to some people before it's too late."

"Oh?" said Vicky. "Like what?"

Amy took a deep breath. "Vicky, can you promise me that what I say next, you won't freak out, and you won't tell _anyone?_ Especially Carol?"

Glory Girl looked a little worried. "Now you're scaring me, Ames. What is it? Do you have some condition? Are your powers killing you?"

Amy smiled and shook her head. "Nothing like that. But I need you to promise."

"Okay," said Victoria. "I promise."

Amy looked her in the eye and said, "Victoria Dallon, I am in love with you."

* * *

The door to the office opened, and Shadow Stalker entered. Director Piggot looked up; her face registered disapproval. "While I understand that it takes some little time to get your costume on, Miss Hess," she said, "a little more promptness may be in order."

"I'm sorry," said Shadow Stalker insincerely. Director Piggot would have to know it was insincere, but so long as she said the words, they couldn't fault her on how she said it. "What is you wanted to see me about?"

Director Piggot nodded off to the side, where Miss Militia flanked Armsmaster. "Those two will explain it better than I can. If you will?"

Armsmaster nodded to Miss Militia, who stepped forward. "I interviewed Taylor Hebert at the hospital today," she said crisply. "She spoke of three girls who have been bullying her for the last two and a half years, and who are the prime suspects for having shoved her into her locker this morning."

A cold feeling rolled through Shadow Stalker. _Bluff it out, bluff it out._ "What's this got to do with me?" she asked, trying to strike a light tone.

Miss Militia looked her directly in the eye. "Did you have anything to do with Taylor Hebert being criminally assaulted and imprisoned in her own locker at Winslow High, this morning?" she asked directly.

Sophia stared boldly back at her. _She can't see my face. She can't see my face,_ she told herself. "No," she said flatly.

"That's a lie," said Armsmaster.

Sophia stared at him. The chilly feeling intensified. "I'm not lying!" she blurted.

"I have a lie detector in my helmet," he told her coldly. "It says otherwise."

"One more time, Sophia," said Miss Militia implacably, "Have you been bullying Taylor Hebert for two and a half years, and did you help lock her in her locker this morning?"

Her nerve broke; she turned to shadow, darted toward the windows behind Director Piggot's desk. _They'll expect me to go for the door._

There was a taser in Miss Militia's hand. She swung it, looking for a clear shot.

Shadow Stalker reached the window, hit it. A crackling buzz of electricity surged through her. She solidified, fell to the floor in a tangled heap.

Director Piggot looked dispassionately down at her as Armsmaster secured her with specialty cuffs. "I think we can call that a confession of guilt," she said blandly. "I am going to have to thank Kid Win for installing that anti-intruder mesh over my windows. Though I have to admit, I thought it would serve to keep intangible people _out_, rather than _in."_

Armsmaster nodded. "Well, I'll go get her processed in." He hefted the unconscious girl over his shoulder, and looked at Miss Militia. "You can call the Heberts and give them the good news."

She grimaced. "I'm not looking forward to this," she confessed. "I hate looking like a fool in front of anyone, and Shadow Stalker made me look like a fool in front of Danny Hebert."

"She made fools of us all," Armsmaster reminded her, on his way out the door. "Time to make it right."

She nodded, and pulled out her phone.

* * *

Glory Girl and Panacea sat on a rooftop.

"Wait, wait, let me get this straight," said Victoria. "You find me sexy, and you want to sleep with me?" Disbelief and disquiet warred in her tone.

_"Yes,"_said Amy. "I love you, and I want to hold you in my arms every night." Her voice was patient; this was perhaps the fourth time they had gone through this. Victoria apparently had trouble fitting it into her worldview.

Victoria shook her head. "Where did this come from? You're my _sister_, Ames." _You're supposed to act like it_, her tone said.

"Only adopted," Panacea reminded her. "Besides, you're smart, you're sexy, you're beautiful." She blushed. "I really ... I mean ... I've had the urge to ... I just want to grab you and kiss you sometimes."

_"Ames!"_ protested Victoria, blushing bright red in her turn. "You did _not_ just say that!"

Amy nodded. "I did too," she contradicted Glory Girl. "Besides, this is all your fault."

Vicky shook her head. "It's my fault you've got the hots for me? How's that?" she asked.

Amy raised an eyebrow. "Remember the first time you let your awe aura go full blast?"

Victoria giggled. "Oh yeah. That was interesting."

Amy nodded. "That was the first time I looked at you and wanted to see what was _under_ your clothes, rather than just loving you as a sister."

Vicky looked stunned. "My _aura? _Is that possible?"

Panacea shrugged. "If it affects brain chemistry … sure. I was young –" loftily ignoring the fact that she was still only sixteen, " – and your aura hit me right between the eyes. Made you into my ideal sexual partner. Every time I felt it after that, it just made me feel all the more attracted to you."

Victoria put her face in her hands. "Well, fuck," she said, her voice slightly muffled.

Panacea went to put her arm around her; Glory Girl flinched back. "Hey –"

"Whoa, whoa," said Amy. "Just a hug. I can still give you those, even if I'm hot for your sexy bod."

That brought a reluctant chuckle out of Victoria. "Okay, just keep it clean, all right?" she said. She accepted the hug, and after a moment, leaned into it.

"See?" said Amy. "I _can_ control myself."

Vicky snorted. "I guess." A pause. "I always thought you had a crush on Dean."

Amy shook her head. "I was jealous of him. I wanted to be where he was."

Glory Girl eyed Amy. "So where do we go from here?"

Amy shrugged. "I don't know. I'll keep going as we are, if you want me to. I love you, but I know you love Dean, and he loves you – "

"Well, when he's not being a total pain," grinned Victoria.

Amy rolled her eyes. _"As_ I was saying, I just wanted you to know it. If you ever, you know, felt curious about that sort of thing. I'm here for you. Any time."

Victoria grinned and punched her – very lightly – on the shoulder. "Well, I love you too, Ames. In a non-I-want-to-jump-your-bones way. So we'll keep going on as normal, if you're okay with that."

Amy smiled. "Just so long as you're happy, Vicky. That's all I want."

Victoria nodded. Then she paused. "Actually," she said.

"Actually?" asked Amy.

Vicky turned to look at her. "Yeah, actually. I've sometimes wondered what it would be like to kiss a girl. Not seriously, you know. Just wondered. Because there are some damn sexy chicks out there in some damn sexy costumes."

_I'm sitting right next to one_, thought Amy very loudly. But all she said was, "Yes?"

"And I was wondering … now that you've confessed your undying love and all that … if I could ask you for a favour." She paused. "Just a kiss. One kiss, is all. So I know what it's like. Nothing more, no making out, no putting your hands anywhere they shouldn't go." She gave Amy a severe stare. "Can you handle that?"

Amy felt her heart leap. "I can," she said, hoping her voice would not betray her. "Just one kiss. I can do that."

_Oh my god,_ thought Amy. _She's going to do this! She's going to kiss me!_

Vicky smiled and leaned in toward her.

* * *

_I'm _**_straight_**, Vicky told herself firmly. _I like _**_boys_**_. But I love Amy too, and if this helps her a little bit ...__For her, I'll do this. Just a kiss.__I hope she appreciates what I'm doing for her._

* * *

Amy reached out, put her arms around Vicky's neck. They moved their heads awkwardly, turning the same way, then Amy corrected with a giggle. And then their lips met.

* * *

To Amy it was wonderful, fireworks, the culmination of a thousand sweaty nights' clutching her pillow and wishing it was Victoria. The warm pressure of Victoria's lips on hers sent bolts of sensation throughout her body.

* * *

To Victoria, it was ... different. She had kissed boys before, but this was unlike any of those. Soft, yielding, inviting ... and the knowledge that it was Amy did not disgust her; it instead added a tingle of forbidden delight.

And then it ended, and Amy slumped back, breathing heavily. _Oh my god_, she thought. _Oh my god. Now I can die happy._

Vicky looked at her, expression unreadable. "That … wasn't half bad, actually," she said. "You're a nice kisser."

* * *

Her thoughts were a little more chaotic. _I think I _**_liked _**_that. How could I like kissing a _**_girl?_**_ And my _**_sister?_**_ What's _**_wrong _**_with me?_

Amy smiled shakily. "Any time, Vicks," she said softly. "Any time at all."

Vicky stood, and Amy stood with her. Vicky scooped her up in her arms.

"Not saying we'll ever do this again, mind," she said, but her smile was soft and tender.

Amy closed her eyes and snuggled into her sister's embrace.

* * *

Taylor and Danny lay on his bed, on top of the covers, both fully clothed. The ordeal of the morning, despite having all the injuries fully healed, had left them both drained of energy. Taylor didn't want to be alone at the moment, so Danny held her while she slipped in and out of an uneasy doze.

And then the phone downstairs rang.

Danny grumbled something, stood up from the bed, and disappeared in a puff of brown and purple smoke. A moment later, the phone stopped ringing as he answered it.

* * *

Taylor lay there, letting her thoughts drift. She was out of that locker, and her father was just a thought away. They had been getting closer before; now, with their powers, they were almost inseparable.

Idly, she wondered where Sophia was. To her delight and amazement, she saw the dark-haired girl, in full costume, being carried unconscious through a corridor within the PRT building, over someone's shoulder. She wore cuffs of a design that Taylor was unfamiliar with.

Her father reappeared in the bedroom.

"Guess what?" he asked with a grin.

"They got Sophia," she said.

"How did _you_ know?" he asked, looking surprised.

She grinned. "I can see her. She's unconscious and handcuffed."

He grinned right back. "Miss Militia said they'll be pressing as many charges as they can, and would we pretty please like to come by to talk about the charges, and about you joining the Wards and me joining the Protectorate."

She smiled. "I'd _love_ to." She rolled off the bed and headed for her room, wondering what she should wear.

* * *

End of Part 6


	7. Chapter 7

**Finding the Way**

* * *

Part 7: Location, Location, Location

* * *

Danny decided on a smart casual style; good trousers, slip-on shoes, button-up shirt, sports jacket. _No tie_, he decided. **_They're _**_asking _**_us _**_to attend._

Taylor reappeared at the bedroom door, wearing the sundress he had gifted to her on Christmas Day. She had on just a touch of lip gloss; all the makeup she felt competent to apply.

She gave him a wry smile. "You know, all our personal stuff and my glasses are still in evidence lockers in the PRT?"

"Really?" he asked. "Where?"

She put her hand on his arm, and then he knew where.

Two puffs of brown-purple smoke expanded out from his hands, dissipated. In each hand now lay a large zip-lock bag. One was marked PROPERTY TAYLOR HEBERT and the other was marked PROPERTY DANIEL HEBERT.

Taylor took hers, opened it, took out her glasses, put them on.

"Well, at least they _cleaned_ everything," she said with satisfaction. She began tucking everything else into her small shoulder purse.

Danny nodded, putting his wallet in his trouser pocket and hefting the vehicle keys with a grin. "You realise, we just travelled across town and got into the house without once needing these," he said, tapping the house key that was appended to the keyring.

Taylor nodded, then looked nervous. "Do I look all right?" she asked.

He hugged her and kissed her on the forehead. She relaxed into his embrace. "You look fine, kiddo."

She smiled up at him. "Thanks, Dad."

"Anytime." He grinned. "You're gonna be beating off the Wards with a stick. The girls as well as the boys."

"Da-ad!" Taylor pulled her head away with a giggle, flushing slightly.

"What?" he grinned. "You're a very pretty girl." He took a deep breath. "How do I look?"

She looked him over critically. He had the potential to look silly, like a scarecrow dressed up in cast-off finery, but in point of fact, he looked quite dapper. Smart casual was a look that worked for him.

"You look nice, Dad," she said judiciously. "You clean up pretty good." She shouldered her small purse. "Let's go."

* * *

Hand in hand., they appeared side by side in the middle of Director Piggot's office. The Director, to give her credit, only gave a mild start as the purple-brown smoke billowed up and dissipated once more.

"Commendably fast," she commented. "Thank you for accepting our invitation."

Danny nodded to her. "Director Piggot," he acknowledged. "Thank you for dealing with Shadow Stalker."

She made a non-commital gesture. "It was not solely for your daughter's benefit, Mr Hebert. Such a state of affairs could not be allowed to continue. Capes have a responsibility that extends to their private lives."

Miss Militia stepped forward, her hand held out. "Danny, Taylor. Thank you for coming."

Danny shook her hand, followed by Taylor; she had to release Danny's left hand to do this, and took hold of it once more thereafter.

"Take a seat," invited the Director. "I would like to hear about what you know of your powers so far."

They pulled their chairs closer together, so that they could maintain their handclasp, and sat.

Both Miss Militia and Director Piggot noted the gesture, but neither commented.

"Well," said Danny, "as Miss Militia probably told you, I can teleport. I'm guessing my normal range is about city-wide. My normal carrying load is probably about one other adult."

Director Piggot frowned. "It says here in this report that you teleported four miles along with a pickup truck. Was that a fluke?"

Danny shook his head. "I have no idea. I don't recall that."

"Hm." Director Piggot scrolled through the report, then looked up. "Can you do anything else?"

At that moment, her phone rang. "Excuse me," she said, and picked it up. "This had better be very important. I left a message. No calls."

Neither Danny nor Taylor could hear anything apart from a high-pitched squeaking coming from the receiver. Piggot frowned. "Really?" she said. "Did you double check?"

More squeaking.

Piggot compressed her lips together. "Very well. Keep me informed."

She put the phone down and looked at Danny and Taylor. "It appears that your personal effects have disappeared from the evidence lockers where they were being stored," she said. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?" From the tone of her voice, she expected the answer to be in the negative.

"Uh, yes," said Danny. "I took them, earlier."

Piggot stared at him. "Took them. From a locked evidence locker, inside PRT headquarters. Without anyone knowing."

Danny nodded. "All I needed to know was where they were."

Piggot shook her head slightly. "All you needed to know." She frowned. "And how did you know?"

Taylor raised her free hand slightly. "Uh, that would be me, Director Piggot, ma'am."

Director Piggot looked at her. "Taylor. You're the … locator?"

Taylor nodded. "If I know what it looks like, or at least enough about it to make it unique, I can zero in on it. Full mental image. Exact location."

Piggot spread her hands. "And your father gets this information how? Do you tell him?"

Taylor shook her head. "All we need is physical contact. He gets the information that way."

Director Piggot stared. "He _reads_ your _mind?"_

She shook her head. "I just give him the information he needs. Like an email address. Only a lot more complicated."

"And how long does this take?" asked Piggot.

Taylor shrugged. "We never timed it." She thought for a moment. "Maybe a second, maybe less?"

"Wait, so let me get this straight," said Director Piggot. "If you are given enough information to identify something, then you can locate it, and then pass on that location information to your father, who can go and get it."

Taylor looked at Danny, who looked back at her. "That's about the size of it," he agreed.

Miss Militia broke in. "This extends to people, too, doesn't it?" she asked.

Taylor nodded.. "Uh, yeah," she said. "I always know where Dad is now, for instance. Anyone else, I have to think about it for a second."

"Which is how you knew that Shadow Stalker was at the PRT building," said Miss Militia.

Taylor nodded. "I couldn't figure it out. That's why I asked."

"And what's your range limit?" asked Director Piggot.

"Normally?" said Taylor. "About city wide. But when Dad's holding my hand? I can't find one."

Miss Militia and Director Piggot stared at them both.

"Uh, while Taylor's holding my hand," offered Danny, "all bets are off for my teleporting too. I feel much stronger, much more capable."

The stare intensified.

"And, uh, while we're holding hands," said Taylor, starting to blush under the intense scrutiny, "instead of just one thing, I can focus on a whole lot of things at once, and bring them all up at the same time."

She shut up. Director Piggot looked at Miss Militia, who stared back at her boss.

Miss Militia spoke first. "Worldwide –"

"- perfect –" put in Director Piggot.

"- clairvoyance," finished Miss Militia.

"You _have_ to be kidding me," Piggot stated.

Taylor shrugged. "Uh, try me?" she offered. Danny squeezed her hand; she felt his approval as a warm rush through her chest.

"Okay," said Director Piggot. She pulled a photo out of a folder, and showed it to Taylor. It was a plastic bag holding what looked like a battered, nearly destroyed flute. "Have you ever seen this before?"

"Oh my god," whispered Taylor. "Mom's flute." She blinked. "It's in evidence locker seven-three-five-nine., seventy-four yards away from this position." She turned to her father. "Dad?"

Danny held up his hand theatrically; there was a burst of purple-brown smoke, and he held the bagged flute. He handed it across to Taylor, who took it, tears welling from her eyes. She hugged it to her chest.

"The girls took it from her locker at school," Danny explained, as Taylor seemed incapable of speech. "They did _that_ to it. Taylor found it, but it was covered in something really vile, so she went looking for a plastic bag. Then they took it away again, just to screw with her head a second time. Where was it?"

"In the stuff that spilled out of her locker," said Miss Militia. "They apparently decided to give it back." She stared at Danny. "Did you just _pull_ it to you?"

Danny nodded. "If it's something I can carry in one hand, I don't need to go there."

Again, Miss Militia and Director Piggot looked at each other. Then Miss Militia looked to Taylor. "We have Tinkers who can repair that as good as new, if you want," she said gently. "It looks like you love it very much."

Taylor looked up, her eyes full of tears. "It was Mom's," she said. "Dad gave it to me after she died. It was the only thing left that was really _her_. And they took it, and did _this_ to it." Her shoulders shook with silent sobs. Danny got up from his chair, knelt in front of hers, and took her in his arms. She held him tightly, and buried her face in his shoulder.

Another silent glance passed between Miss Militia and Director Piggot, one of perfect understanding. There would be no plea-bargaining, no easing of the sentence for Shadow Stalker.

* * *

After a minute or so, Danny sat down again, but he kept a firm hold on Taylor's hand. Her eyes were red, but she had the tears under control. Using a tissue from her purse, she blew her nose. Once she had finished, it puffed into purple smoke, reappeared in Danny's hand, then puffed away again.

Miss Militia raised an eyebrow. "Where did you send it?" she asked.

"Trash can in the kitchen, at home," he said offhandedly. "I know where that is."

She nodded. "As I was saying, we could get Kid Win or Armsmaster to see if they can repair your flute. They are both excellent Tinkers."

"If you could do that," said Danny, "that would mean so much to both of us." He cleared his throat. "What else would you like to know?"

Director Piggot cleared her throat. "You can locate people," she said. It was almost a question.

Taylor nodded. "I just need something to identify them."

"How about a cape name, if they're well-known enough?"

Taylor nodded again. "Sure, I guess."

Director Piggot took a deep breath. "Taylor Hebert, can you tell me the present location of Jack Slash?"

Taylor blinked. "Uh, sure," she said. "He's in a bed and breakfast called Calamus Lodge, in Nebraska."

Director Piggot hammered keys on her computer. She called up a map program and located Calamus Lodge.

"I can tell you which room," Taylor offered. Piggot didn't even notice. She snatched up her phone and dialled rapidly, then spoke even more rapidly.

Miss Militia strolled over to stand by Taylor's chair. "You can locate anyone at all?" she asked quietly.

Taylor shrugged. "Sure," she said. "Once I've got enough reference points."

Miss Militia nodded. "Are the rest of the Slaughterhouse Nine there?"

Taylor blinked. "I don't know who they all are."

"Crawler?" asked Miss Militia.

Taylor paused. "Yes."

"Bonesaw?"

"Yes."

"Mannequin?"

"Yes."

Miss Militia was staring at her in amazement. "Does it hurt? Is it a strain?" she asked.

Taylor shook her head, and held up the hand that was gripping Danny's. "Not while Dad's with me," she said with a wan smile.

Director Piggot put the phone down and smiled a very predatory smile. "I have just been in touch with Director Costa-Brown. She's extremely interested in your abilities, Taylor."

Taylor nodded. "Just so long as they don't take me away from Dad, I don't care," she said.

Miss Militia smiled. "I doubt there's much danger of _that,"_ she said with a smile.

Danny raised a hand. "Can you access missing-persons files from that computer, Director?" he asked.

The Director nodded, a little taken aback. "Certainly," she said. A few keystrokes later, and the monitor was full of thumbnail-sized pictures. She turned the monitor around to show them.

Taylor got up and approached the desk; Danny followed, still holding her hand.

She stared at the screen. Each face impinged on her consciousness separately, then it seemed to fold out, become a screen in her mind. The faces changed slightly, then expanded until she had a whole-body view of that person.

"Mouse?" she asked. Director Piggot handed it over.

She began to click rapidly on pictures. When she finished, a good third of the pictures were highlighted. "Those are all dead," she said sadly. She pointed at the others. "Hiding … living on the street … in South America … oh god," she choked. "She's chained up in someone's basement, like a dog."

Danny clasped her hand tightly. "Where?" he demanded sharply.

"Wait!" snapped Miss Militia. "I'm coming with you." She stepped forward, and took Danny's other hand. Neither Danny nor Taylor argued.

Purple-brown smoke billowed around them, and when it dissipated, they were gone.

Director Piggot looked at the highlighted pictures on her screen.

_Damn,_ she thought.

* * *

They appeared in a cellar; Danny had instinctively ducked, as the ceiling was low. A teenage girl, filthy and naked, was chained to a metal pipe. The metal cuff had worn away the skin of her ankle.

Two more children, one about twelve and one about ten, were also in the room, also chained.

The older girl stared at them and screamed.

Taylor stepped forward, towing Danny with her. "Sh-sh-sh!" she said soothingly. "We're superheroes. We're here to get you out."

The girl stared, wide-eyed. "You're not wearing costumes."

Taylor pointed at Miss Militia. "She's in the Protectorate. We're just beginning." She bent down and looked at the chain. "Is there a lock?"

"No," said the girl dully. "He welded them shut."

"What's his name?" asked Taylor intently.

"John, I think," said the girl. "John Brady."

Taylor blinked. A fortyish man, overweight, wearing a wife-beater, filthy jeans. Getting off a sofa. Picking up a shotgun.

She waved to get Miss Militia's attention, pointed at the door. "One man," she whispered. "Shotgun."

Miss Militia nodded. She knelt, and pointed an extremely efficient-looking assault rifle at the door.

* * *

Danny was staring at the chains. He concentrated. Purple-brown fog billowed around the chains, dissipated. He held three ankle cuffs; the chains dragged free. The girl, and the two smaller ones, stared at their abraded ankles. Danny put down the cuffs.

Taylor checked on John Brady again. He was almost at the door.

"Dad," she whispered. "As soon as he opens the door, take his gun."

He nodded. He understood.

* * *

The door burst open. The unshaven figure stepped through. "What do you bitches think you –"

Purple-brown fog billowed around the sawn-off shotgun. It billowed again around Danny Hebert's hands, and he held the shotgun.

"John Brady!" snapped Miss Militia. "You are under arrest!"

The assault rifle changed subtly, and she fired, even before he was able to respond. A tranquilliser dart stuck out of his neck. He reached up, pulled it out, then slumped to the ground.

"Nice disarm," she said, rising to her feet and taking the shotgun from Danny's unresisting hands.

"Uh, thanks," said Danny. "It was Taylor's idea." He raised an eyebrow at the recumbent John Brady. "Aren't you supposed to give them a chance to surrender?"

She snorted. "This lowlife? He's lucky I used a _dart."_

The older girl tugged at Taylor's sleeve. "Can we go home now?" she asked, her voice full of hope and dread; hope for a positive answer, dread for a negative.

Taylor grinned. "Sure you can." She turned to Miss Militia. "Just by the way, we're in a town called Cordova, in Alabama." Turning back to the girl, she said, "All I need is your parents' names."

* * *

John Brady was delivered, unconscious, to the Cordova police station. Miss Militia went with him, to give a statement to the police. Three families had joyous reunions with their lost children; they promised to contact the police at once.

Miss Militia loitered in the alleyway behind the police station; only the faintest shift in air heralded the arrival of Taylor and Danny.

"It does make meeting up much easier," she commented with a smile, taking Danny's hand. "Let's go."

* * *

Director Piggot looked up as the smoke billowed once more, then died away. "I've just dealt with a phone call from a place called Cordova, in Alabama," she commented. "Was that you?"

Miss Militia nodded. "A dirtbag who had three kids chained up in his cellar." She turned a warm look on Taylor and Danny. "I haven't the words."

"Very well," said Director Piggot. "I do." She looked at Taylor and Danny. "I am formally inviting you to join the Protectorate; Taylor to be joining the Wards until her eighteenth birthday. Do you accept?"

Taylor looked at Danny, who looked back at him. They didn't need the look. Each already knew what the other was thinking.

Danny nodded in eerie unison with Taylor. "Thank you," he said.

"We accept," she added.

Miss Militia smiled behind her scarf. "No," she said. "Thank _you."_

Taylor hugged Danny, who reciprocated. "Ready to be a superhero, kiddo?" he asked with a grin.

"You bet," she agreed.

* * *

End of Part 7


	8. Chapter 8

**Finding the Way**

* * *

Part 8: Nightmares

* * *

Danny sat opposite Taylor as they ate dinner that night. "I think we did good today, kiddo," he said.

She smiled at him. "I think so, too.". Reaching across the table, she grasped his hand. "I love you, Dad."

He returned her smile. "I love you too, Taylor."

"Thanks for getting me out of that locker."

He squeezed her hand gently. "Anytime, kiddo. Anytime at all."

They stood up simultaneously, and moved into a hug.

* * *

Danny Hebert held his daughter, the person whom he valued most of all in the world. He would die for her; he nearly had, today, and he would do the same again, without hesitation. He knew that she needed him, desperately, and so he would stand by her.

Taylor Hebert held her father, the person whom she valued most of all in the world. Hers was a battered and scarred soul, but he had proven beyond any doubt that his love for her was unbending, unbreakable. He would stand by her forever, and thus she loved him just as strongly as he did her.

* * *

"Dad ..." she began.

"Yes, kiddo?" he asked.

"Would I ... be able to sleep in your bed, tonight? I think I might need a hug or two."

He held her close. "I think I can oblige you with that, Taylor," he agreed. He kissed her on top of her head, and then eased out of the hug. "In the meantime, we have dishes to do."

* * *

They washed up; a couple of experiments proved that he could not teleport grime off the dishes, nor the dishes away from the grime. Apparently some things never changed. So the dishes were done the old-fashioned way, and dried the same old way, and put away in the cupboard.

Danny felt a warm glow inside as his daughter scrubbed away at a stubborn stain. With all that had changed in their lives, with their renewed relationship, with their powers, with everything that had happened, they could still have a quiet domestic moment like this, as if nothing had changed at all. It gave him hope for the future.

She looked up at him and smiled; of course, with their new level of empathic connection, she had felt his happiness and divined the meaning of it.

"I know, Dad," she said softly. "I like it too."

They hugged again, truly father and daughter once more, holding each other, a rock in a storm, an anchor in a gale. Stability amid chaos.

* * *

They settled down to sleep; she snuggled back against him and he put his arms around her, spoon-fashion.

They conversed for a little while like that, as sleep gradually overtook them. They were warm, comfortable, loved and safe. It was easy to drift off to sleep.

* * *

Taylor was in the locker. It was closing in on her. The unimaginably foul muck was rising around her, it was going to suffocate her, she couldn't get out, she couldn't find her phone, she couldn't call Dad. The level of the garbage rose to her chin.

She screamed.

* * *

Danny came awake as Taylor thrashed and screamed in his arms. He tried to hold her, tried to gently restrain her, as she whipped around, and writhed, and flailed blindly. She was screaming his name, over and over. He heard her begin to vomit, and teleported them both to the bathroom.

Vomit spattered the tiles before he was able to get her head over the toilet, holding her hair out of the way.

She threw up convulsively, her stomach muscles as hard as iron, voiding herself of everything she had eaten that day, since the locker.

He held her gently, speaking soothingly, reminding her that she was all right, that it was all good, she was out of the locker, he was there, he was never going to leave her alone ever again.

Gradually, she quieted down, stopped vomiting. Broke into great racking sobs that shook her skinny frame. He held her, soothed her. She cried on his shoulder.

He got her up, cleaned her up, wiped up the vomitus, flushed the toilet. Held her while she shivered.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered, holding him tightly. "I'm such a burden."

"Never," he told her firmly. "I love you, and you have been badly hurt. We just need to work through this."

He handed her the mouthwash; she rinsed her mouth out and giggled self-consciously; he grinned.

"Let's get back to bed," he said. "We still need our sleep."

* * *

The locker was full of bugs that had come to feed on the horrible garbage, but there were more bugs than garbage. They crawled all over Taylor as she tried to get out of the locker, up her nostrils, into her mouth, into her eyes, into her ears. To her horror, she felt them burrowing into her underwear, crawling between her buttocks, forcing their way into her secret places, slithering into her body where they would lay their eggs ...

She could not open her mouth, because the bugs wanted to crawl in. But she had to if she wanted to scream.

She screamed, choked as the bugs climbed down her throat, screamed again.

* * *

Danny came awake once more, as Taylor screamed and thrashed in his arms. He held her close, murmuring gently, caressing her hair, telling her that she was all right. This time she retched, but nothing came up; he took her to the bathroom anyway. Kneeling on the white tiles, he embraced her, and she clung to him, sobbing piteously.

Helping her up, he took her to the kitchen and got her a glass of cold water, and had one himself. Then he took them both back to bed.

* * *

The third nightmare did not even wake Taylor up; she moaned and moved around for a bit in his arms, and he just had to hold her, murmuring soothingly into her ear, until she calmed down and dropped back to sleep proper.

He sighed and lay there for a long time before he finally managed to get back to sleep himself.

* * *

In the morning, he called in sick. The family emergency, he said, was ongoing, and he had to take care of Taylor. Then he went back to bed.

Taylor was still asleep when he got there, but she started to wake up when he climbed back in with her. She opened her eyes with a gasp and turned to him. "Oh, thank god, Dad," she said, wrapping her arms around him. "I thought you'd gone somewhere."

"Nowhere without you, kiddo," he said gently, holding her in his arms. "Nowhere without you."

She made a contented noise and snuggled up to him. "I love you, Dad," she murmured, holding him close. "Was I much trouble, last night? I seem to recall waking up a few times."

"Just a bit," he admitted. "But it's all right. You went through something no-one should ever have to go through, and it's only natural that there'd be a bit of fallout from that. And I'm here for you any time, you know that."

He felt hot tears slide from her eyes on to his chest. "Hey now, what's up?" he asked, caressing her hair.

"You're so good to me, Dad," she whispered. "I don't deserve it."

"You're my daughter," he told her bluntly. "If I say you deserve it, you deserve it."

She smiled wanly, and rested her head on his chest once more.

* * *

Alan Barnes opened the door to find two police officers standing there, along with a woman in civilian clothes.

"May I help you?" he asked.

The police officers looked at him. "Does Emma Barnes live at this address?" the senior one asked.

"Yes, she does," replied Alan. "I'm her father. Why do you want to see her?"

"We would like her to come down to the station for questioning, sir."

Alan froze. "Why – what's she done?"

"You may have heard of an incident where a student at her school was shut into a locker, yesterday?" asked the police officer. "We have reason to believe that she was complicit in that incident."

The lady in civilian clothes stepped forward. "I'm Dorothy Gillman, from Child Services," she said. "I'm here to ensure that her rights are not abrogated while she is being questioned."

Somehow, that did not make Alan feel any better.

* * *

Across town, a very similar scene was playing out on the doorstep of Madison Clements.

* * *

Taylor and Danny dozed, woke, talked, dozed again, talked again. It was a thoroughly relaxing time. But around about ten o'clock, Danny finally roused himself.

"We should be going soon," he said. "Otherwise they'll be wondering where we've gotten to."

Taylor sat up. "Yeah, I suppose," she said. "I was really enjoying this, but I guess we should get up."

She went for a run while he cooked them a late breakfast. After breakfast, they showered and he teleported them to the PRT base.

* * *

Armsmaster turned the bag over in his hands, examining the badly damaged musical instrument within. "Yes," he decided. "I can fix this."

"If you can," said Danny Hebert, "we would greatly appreciate it."

"If Armsmaster says he can do this," said Director Piggot, "he can do it.". She looked at Danny and Taylor. "Not to open old wounds," she said, "but didn't you say you had evidence against Shadow Stalker and her two accomplices?"

Danny looked at Taylor, who groaned and put her hand to her forehead. "Would you believe, in all the excitement, I forgot them?"

Clasping his hand, she asked, "Dad, could you get them for me?"

This time, only Armsmaster was surprised when the purple-brown smoke billowed around Danny's hand, then dissipated to leave him holding a stack of papers. He handed them over to the Director, who promptly handed them on to Armsmaster. "See how she reacts to these, will you?" she asked.

The armoured hero smiled grimly, noting the thickness of the stack. "Will do, ma'am," he replied. He looked at Danny with some respect. "That's a very useful trick, sir."

Danny cleared his throat self-consciously. "If I'm going to be in the Protectorate, then you'll be my boss. _I'll _be calling _you_ 'sir'."

Armsmaster nodded. "That's a very good point.". He rose. "I'll just take these down to the prisoner now."

* * *

As the door to the conference room closed behind him, Miss Militia looked at Taylor and Danny. "I'm guessing you've been discussing it," she said, "so have you decided what names you will be using?"

Taylor grinned. "At first we liked the idea of calling ourselves 'Search and Rescue', but then we decided not to be quite so derivative. So I'm going to be Compass Rose."

Danny nodded. "And I was thinking of going with either Pathfinder or Trailblazer."

Miss Militia nodded. "Very strong names. I must say, I prefer Pathfinder over Trailblazer, though. It has an old-world military ring to it. World War Two, perhaps?"

"Actually, yes," confirmed Director Piggot. They looked at her. "My father was a war buff," she continued, unfazed. "Pathfinder squadrons consisted of light fighter-bombers, usually Mosquitos, flying out ahead of the heavies and dropping flares to mark the target."

There was silence for a moment, as the others considered this.

"That can't have been safe," observed Taylor, taking hold of her father's hand.

Piggot shook her head. "It wasn't. But we are getting away from the point. You have chosen the names Compass Rose and Pathfinder. Costume ideas?"

Danny rubbed his chin. "Compasses are old-school, and as you say, so is the idea of the Pathfinder. So, an old-fashioned look. Sepia tones. Brown and cream."

Miss Militia nodded. "So far, so good. Accessories?"

Taylor spoke up. "I'd like an actual picture of a compass rose on my costume. One of the really gorgeous ones, with scrollwork. Maybe tilted a bit, so it looks elliptical. And goggles. I'll need goggles, with corrective lenses.". She paused. "Actually, Dad, I've been meaning to ask you. Why aren't you wearing _your_ glasses?"

Danny blinked. "Uh, Panacea gave me corrective treatment," he confessed. "I kind of forgot about it, with everything that was happening."

"Ah," she sighed. "And she didn't do it for me because she didn't know I was a cape."

"We can ask her to come back," offered Director Piggot.

"It might not work," observed Miss Militia. "Panacea is very big on her independence. She doesn't do individual requests.". She looked up from the pad she had been sketching on. "How does this look?"

* * *

The sketches looked remarkably like target outlines that had been filled in with details after the fact. Both costumes evoked the 'aviator' look without actually being explicit about it. Danny's had knee-high boots, a long coat and a light helmet, looking vaguely military. The heavy goggles had rectangular lenses. "We can also put something across your lower face if you want," she said.

He nodded and passed the pad along to Taylor. Her costume had the compass rose on the chest, a light coat, high boots like Danny's and a light helmet with round-lensed goggles. "We can build in a heads-up display, to feed you information on things or people," Miss Militia added.

"What do you think, kiddo?" asked Danny.

Taylor nodded. "I like it. The basic concept, anyway. We might need to adjust things a little during fitting.". She tapped the coat her image was wearing, then held up her own rather skinny wrist. "We don't want my hands looking like pipe-cleaners coming out of those sleeves.". She cleared her throat. "And would it be possible to have just a little, uh, padding, here and there?" She looked defiantly around the room. "So I don't look, you know, twelve?"

Miss Militia coughed. Danny took a studied interest in the ceiling acoustic tiles. Director Piggot merely looked deadpan, and made a note.

"I'm sure that will be possible," she murmured.

"The costumes will be ready in about two days," said Miss Militia. "In the meantime, it would probably be best if you went about your normal routines."

"Which reminds me," said Danny. "Did I ... out ... myself, yesterday, with all my teleporting around?"

"Actually," said Miss Militia, "it's amazing what people miss if they don't compare notes. We have spoken to the principal at Winslow, and secured her silence, and that of her staff. Virtually no-one else is aware of your new capabilities."

"Uh ... as for going to school ..." said Taylor. "I'm not sure ..."

Miss Militia positively grinned behind her scarf. "Where are Emma and Madison now?"

Taylor blinked. "Uh, in the police station. Not looking happy." She blinked again. "And Mr Barnes is there too. He looks like he's been shouting a lot, and not getting anywhere."

Miss Militia nodded. "And whatever Sophia can confirm from the papers you gave us will be added to their charge sheets when they do get arrested. Believe me when I say that they are not walking away from this one." There was the sound of considerable satisfaction in her voice.

Taylor grinned. "Somehow, I'm really good with that."

Director Piggot nodded. "I'm not surprised." She paused. "What are your plans for the rest of the day?"

"Well," said Danny, "I've called in sick, and Taylor isn't expected at school, so we could have a quiet day in, or we could have a day out and about."

"Or," offered Taylor, "do you have a spare computer that I can pull up those missing-persons lists on?"

Director Piggot's gaze met that of Miss Militia. "I do believe we just might," agreed Miss Militia.

"While we're getting that set up," added the Director, "would you be able to tell me the status of Jack Slash?"

Taylor breathed deeply, and took her father's hand.

"He's injured, hiding out in a town called Burwell, to the southeast of where he was yesterday," she reported. "Shrapnel wounds and some pretty bad burns. Four sixty-three South Eighth Avenue." She paused. "Crawler's still in the area, Shatterbird's flying southwest, and I can't get a read on Siberian at all. It's like she doesn't exist." She frowned. "That's really weird ... and possibly really bad. How did she go invisible to my power between one day and the next?"

Miss Militia shrugged. "You've only just recently gotten your powers," she said. "Maybe you're still working them out."

Taylor shrugged dubiously. "Okay, I guess." She looked at Director Piggot. "The rest are in custody?"

"Or dead," replied the Director bluntly. "But from retrieved remains, only the four got away." She smiled thinly. "Thank you for the information about Jack Slash."

Taylor nodded. "You're welcome."

Miss Militia stood up. "Come on," she said. "Let's get you set up for finding missing persons."

Taylor got up along with Danny. Hand in hand, they followed her out the door.

* * *

End of Part 8


	9. Chapter 9

**Finding the Way**

* * *

Part 9: Meet the Wards

* * *

Director Piggot tapped the pointer on the electronic board. "Thanks to Compass Rose, we now have a good lead on the bases for every single prominent supervillain gang in the city," she announced. "We've also supplied the Boston Protectorate team with the location of Accord's base, and the location of his office within that building. Likewise, the Adepts in New York."

Miss Militia raised her hand. "Isn't this edging very close to the unwritten rule about not outing capes?" she asked.

Director Piggot shook her head. "Not if we don't use it until the villain group in question goes over the line themselves."

Armsmaster looked up. "Define 'over the line'."

Piggot snorted. "Use your head. Specifically going after civilians. Hurting innocents randomly. Hitting surrendered capes when they're down. Kidnapping women and kids. Murder. Rape. It's not hard to figure out where the line is."

"Not robbery then?" asked Armsmaster. "Assault? Drug dealing?"

"Well, of course you're supposed to try to _stop_ them from basic crimes like that," Director Piggot explained. "And if they deal drugs to kids, certainly. But everyday crimes aren't heinous enough to warrant kicking in the door to a villain's base. If we start playing hardball, they start playing hardball. And there's more of them than there are of us."

She took a deep breath. "Besides, right now, Compass Rose is the most valuable secret weapon we have. Bar none. They don't know we have her, and even when she goes public, they won't know her full capabilities. We'll put it out that she can locate small items within a reasonable radius, say a mile. Not people. And that she needs an hour or so to 'attune' herself to the item. That'll make her seem harmless enough."

"And Pathfinder?" asked Miss Militia.

"We keep the full capability of his power under wraps as well. We do _not_ let anyone know of their close connection, either familial or power-wise," declared the Director. "Too much chance of someone realising who they are. Also, hostage situations are a distinct possibility, then. No, they'll just be two people with similar costumes, whose powers work well together."

"How is she going on the missing-persons front?" asked Armsmaster. "And how are you explaining that away, anyway?"

Director Piggot smiled thinly. "She's cleared seventy-five percent of all the current outstanding missing-persons cases in the continental United States. The ones who are in a good situation, she's leaving for later. Only the ones who are in danger are being passed on for action. And we're notifying the next of kin for those who are deceased." She glanced at Armsmaster. "We're telling people that we've engaged the services of a high-powered precog for a limited time, as a publicity thing. They seem to be buying it."

She powered down the board, and extracted the memory stick. "No-one speaks about this. But if and when it's needed ... we've got it."

* * *

Taylor bundled her hair up and secured it, then lowered the helmet over her head and strapped it into place. The goggles fitted into place over her eyes; even as old-fashioned as they appeared, with fittings that looked like leather and brass, they corrected her vision flawlessly, giving her more peripheral vision than was immediately apparent.

She shrugged her shoulders inside the light coat, moving around to ensure that the costume sat well. Looking down, she admired the in-perspective image of the compass rose on her chest, which was itself a little more prominent than she was used to. The padding was discreet, but added inches where they were needed. More padding gave her actual hips, so that she went from skinny and gawky to shapely and slender. She'd been told it was a silicone gel rather than simple cloth, and would appear real to the touch. _I think I'll pass on testing that with anyone._

"How are the boots?" asked Miss Militia, breaking into her reverie.

Taylor stamped her feet in them a couple of times. "Comfortable," she said. "I like them." She admired herself in the mirror, the brown and cream tones blending into one another. "Is this what they call the retro look?" she asked.

"I think so," agreed Miss Militia. "It suits you."

Taylor grinned at the older hero. "Thanks," she said. "Let's go see how Dad's getting on." She already knew; she could see him in her mind's eye. But they didn't need to know that.

* * *

Danny saw a stranger walk out with Miss Militia, wearing his daughter's costume. He had to look twice, to make sure it was really Taylor. Her costume concealed lifts in her boots, making her a few inches taller. The padding made her seem more mature, more graceful. He could easily believe her to be seventeen now, instead of fifteen.

Taylor looked at the tall, commanding stranger alongside Armsmaster. His helmet had a suggestion of a peak that evoked the idea of a military cap; the heavy, square-framed goggles were tinted and the mask below gave the impression of a strong jaw. He looked mysterious, dashing, dangerous.

His long coat swept behind him like a cape as he moved to meet her. In black or dark grey, he would have looked sinister, even evil. As it was, the cream lining of the coat made him look lighter, friendlier. He held out his hand; they both wore heavy-looking gloves, but with much finer material on the palm and underside of the fingers, so that they could still make tactile contact while wearing them.

* * *

She clasped his hand; they felt their minds click into full contact.

"Compass Rose," said Danny, the mask making his voice a little more resonant, a little deeper.

"Pathfinder," she responded. They shook. "It will be good to be working with you."

"Likewise," he replied, with a grin inside his mask.

Even though she couldn't see his grin, she knew it was there, and she returned it in kind.

Miss Militia walked around them, eyeing them up and down. "I think you two look good together," she observed. "The visual effect is ... striking."

Armsmaster nodded. "They don't _look_ like father and daughter. Perhaps brother and sister, even."

"Equal partners, anyway," Miss Militia agreed. She turned to the pair. "Do you know where to take us?"

Taylor's eyes unfocused for just a moment; she picked a Ward at random. _Clockblocker_. The image unfolded in her mind. She could see him, chatting with blurry figures. She knew exactly where. And, through their link, so did Danny.

"Yes," he replied, about one second after the question had been asked.

Miss Militia laid a hand on Taylor's shoulder; Armsmaster repeated the gesture with Danny. Miss Militia grinned. "Take us out, Number One," she said.

Purple-brown smoke billowed around them. When it dissipated, they were gone.

* * *

Three feet to Clockblocker's left, purple-brown smoke billowed out of nowhere, then faded away, to leave four people standing there.

"Christ!" he blurted, and dropped his drink.

It puffed into smoke halfway to the floor, and reappeared in the hand of the tall masked figure standing beside Armsmaster. Danny stepped forward and handed it back to the white-clad Ward. "You dropped this," he said, his voice resonant inside his mask.

Dennis accepted the drink. "Ah ... thanks?" he said. The tall figure bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement.

Taylor squeezed her father's hand in amused reproval. _Showoff,_ she thought.

He picked up her amusement, and squeezed back. _And?_

* * *

It had been a very impressive entrance; all eyes were on them. Armsmaster stepped forward and raised his hands. "Everyone!" he called out. "We would like you to meet Pathfinder and Compass Rose! Pathfinder is joining the Protectorate, and Compass Rose is joining the Wards!"

A tall youth moved toward them. He wasn't masked; his features were Hispanic, and his long black hair was tied back. "Hi, Compass Rose," he said, offering his hand. "I'm Aegis." He grinned, his teeth very white against his swarthy skin. "But you can call me Carlos."

Taylor glanced at Danny and got a fractional nod in return, then unclipped her helmet and lifted it off. She shook her hair out and let it fall free. "Hi, Carlos," she said, shaking his hand. "I'm Taylor."

"Come on," said Aegis. "I'll introduce you to the gang." He led her away, leaving Danny standing with Miss Militia and Armsmaster, and Clockblocker watching her retreating rear-view.

_Crap_, thought Dennis. _Another hot chick joins the team, and I have to go make an idiot out of myself._

And then he became aware of Pathfinder leaning down beside him.

"Just so you know," said Danny, just loudly enough for the teen hero to hear him, "if you're thinking what I think you're thinking about her ... she's my daughter."

Clockblocker froze, almost as if he had used his own power on himself. Danny patted him on the shoulder. _"Good_ lad."

Then he moved off with the other two, to meet the other members of the Protectorate, leaving Clockblocker standing alone.

"Hey!" said Vista. "Come and meet the new girl! She's cool!" She grabbed him by the arm and tugged him along; he had not the spirit to resist.

* * *

"So you're the reason Shadow Stalker's no longer with us?" asked Kid Win. Helmet off, he had introduced himself as Chris, and had pleasant features and brown hair. His question was curious rather than accusatory.

"Uh, yeah," said Taylor. "I don't know how much I'm allowed to say, but ... she did something really bad. And it happened to me. And Dad had to come and get me out of it. When Dad triggered ..."

"Wait, wait," said Gallant. Unmasked, he had told her to call him Dean. "Pathfinder's your _dad?"_

Taylor grinned. "Yeah. He got his powers the same time I got mine. Cool, huh?" She was starting to relax and enjoy this.

Vista nodded. "It would be great to always have someone at home you can talk to about having powers." She rolled her eyes. "With my family, it's always 'have you tried _not_ using your powers? Why can't you be _normal?'"_ The whiny, nasal tone drew smiles from around the group.

Taylor giggled. "Yeah, it is really nice. Not having to pretend. No secrets. No awkwardness."

She looked around at the group. "Now, I know you stop time," she said to Clockblocker, "but I'm still a bit unsure on what _you_ do," she added to Vista.

Vista grinned. "I can stretch or squeeze space, so it might take you all day to cross this room, or make it in a single step."

Taylor's eyes widened. "That's an _awesome_ power."

Vista nodded. "It can be. So what do you do?"

Taylor grinned. "I locate stuff."

"Yeah?" asked Browbeat. "Like what?"

Taylor shrugged. "Basically, anything I've got enough details on to make it unique. I get a mental image of it, and I know its exact location."

"Like ... _anything?"_ said Kid Win.

Taylor shrugged again. "Try me."

Carlos spoke up. "My mother lost her favourite necklace last week. She doesn't know where it's got to."

"I'm going to need more details than that," Taylor told him.

"Silver and turquoise," Carlos said. "Actually, hold on, I got a photo of it on my phone somewhere." He flicked through pictures until he found one, and Taylor looked at it.

Her eyes went unfocused for a moment. "Got it," she said. "It's in a pawn shop, downtown." She gave him the address. "Currently under the counter. It hasn't been put on display yet."

He stared at her. "You .. got all that, just from the photo?" he asked.

She nodded. "It's what I do," she said. "Actually, if you want, we could get it back for you."

"We?" he asked.

"Me and Dad," she clarified.

He frowned. "Go there and ask for it back, you mean?"

She grinned. "Not exactly." She didn't even look around, but purple-brown smoke billowed beside her, and her father was standing there.

"You wanted me, Taylor?" he asked.

Everyone around her stepped back with varying shock and surprise on their features. Vista looked delighted. "Oh, that was _awesome!"_ she said.

Taylor took her father's hand. "Stolen property," she said. "Get it back?"

He held out his free hand. A puff of smoke later, and the necklace lay coiled up in it. Aegis stared at it, hypnotised. Taylor picked it up and handed it to him. "Tell your mom hi from me," she said with a smile.

He cradled it in his hands. Everyone was goggling at Taylor and Danny. Taylor looked around, shrugged slightly. "What?" she asked.

Danny grinned, gave her a one-armed hug, and said, "I'll get back to the adults now. Call me if you need me." And then he disappeared in his characteristic billow of smoke.

Vista squealed and hugged Taylor. "That was _fantastic!"_ she exulted. "Can you and your dad do that _all_ the time?"

Taylor grinned and hugged her back. "Mostly, yeah," she said.

Browbeat turned to Clockblocker. "Do you believe what you just saw?"

Clockblocker shrugged. "I dunno. What did _you_ just see?" _Someone way out of __**my**__ league._ He tossed his drink back, and went looking for another.

Kid Win clapped Taylor on the shoulder. "Well done. Welcome to the team."

She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks, Chris. It's nice to have new friends."

He grinned at her. "Likewise, Taylor. Is your dad going to be working with us a lot?"

"Actually," said Taylor, "I'll probably be working with him a lot. We, uh, work well together."

"Except when you're doing monitor duty and stuff," said Vista.

"Maybe even then," said Taylor. "Miss Militia says we're a special case."

* * *

"Taylor seems to be getting along well with the others," observed Miss Militia.

Danny nodded. "She's needed friends of her own age for the longest time. At her school ... she was bullied a lot. Which, in a roundabout way, is why we're here today."

She gave him a sympathetic look. "I know," she said. She put her hand on his arm. "If you ever need someone to talk to ..."

He looked at her, slightly surprised. "I, uh, guess, yeah, sometime I might do that," he said.

The moment was interrupted when Assault slapped Danny on the shoulder. "So, Pathfinder, is it?"

"Call me Danny," he said with a grin.

"Danny, right." Assault offered his hand. "Ethan. It's good to see another family man on the team. And you, what, teleport?"

Danny nodded. "I haven't figured out all the tricks I can do with it, but Taylor's helping me out with that. She's very imaginative like that."

"I'm sure that'll be a very useful addition to the team," said Battery. "Can you teleport other people? Oh wait," she said immediately, putting her hand to her forehead. "You arrived with Compass Rose, Armsmaster and Miss Militia. Sorry."

"Uh, yeah," he said. "Normally, one other person. But when Taylor's with me, my capacity improves a lot."

"How much is 'a lot'?" asked Dauntless curiously.

Danny shrugged. "Haven't hit a limit yet."

Triumph shared a glance with Assault. "We are gonna _have_ to test that out," declared Assault.

Danny grinned. "Any time."

* * *

End of Part 9


	10. Chapter 10

**Finding the Way**

* * *

Part 10: Panacea/Glory Girl Interlude

* * *

"Hey Vicky, wait up!"

Victoria Dallon looked over her shoulder to see her younger sister hurrying to catch up before she reached the stairs. Reluctantly, she slowed her fast walk.

"What?" she asked. "I'm busy. I've got to get ready to meet Dean, later."

"You've been busy these last two days, Vicky," said Amy as she caught up. "Have you been avoiding me?"

"No, of course not," protested Victoria.

Amy looked at her steadily.

"Not really," temporised Vicky.

The soft brown eyes seemed to bore into her.

"Only a little bit?" she said at last, in a small voice.

Panacea sighed. "Vicky, I'm the _same person_ that I was three days ago. I've felt the way I do about you for a long time. I'm not going to start acting differently around you, just because you know how I feel about you."

"But I _do_ know how you feel," protested Victoria. "It changes the way I see you."

"Does it change the way you _feel_ about me?" challenged Panacea softly.

"Yes! No! Fuck, _I _don't know!". Victoria put her hands up, as if she were about to start pulling at her hair. "I just wish you'd never told me, that's all."

"You'd rather I just kept lying to you and to myself?" pressed Amy.

Victoria looked at her sister, the girl with whom she had shared a thousand triumphs, a thousand tears. She had thought she knew Amy, knew how she felt, knew how she ticked. A realisation struck her.

_I **d**_**_o _**_know her. I just didn't know her before. Everyone changes._

She looked into those soft brown eyes, and saw the echo of the pain that her sister had kept hidden for so long. Knew that she was only seeing it now because Amy was letting her see it.

_It's called growing up. Everyone has to grow up. Even me._

Slowly, she shook her head. "No, Ames," she said softly. "I wouldn't rather you kept lying."

Stepping forward, she opened her arms and embraced her sister. Unselfconscious, unafraid, uncaring. Or rather, caring very much. _You are my sister, and I love you, and I don't _**_care _**_if you're attracted to me. I'll hug you if I want._

Amy felt her sister's arms go around her, and she reciprocated, clinging to the person she loved and cared for most in all the world. She felt tears come to her eyes and she sniffled.

"What's the matter with you _now?"_

Amy could have laughed with glee. This was the abrasive, sarcastic Vicky she knew and loved. "Nothing," she lied, smiling wanly. "I must be coming down with a cold or something."

"Bullshit," said Victoria flatly. "You don't _get_ colds.". She eyed Amy in mild disbelief. "You're crying. Why are you crying?"

"Because my sister, who I love more than anyone in the world, just let me hug her for the first time in three days," explained Amy. "I'm _happy."_

Victoria shook her head. "You're weird, is what you are.". Her gaze softened. "But I'll try not to avoid you in future, okay?"

Amy smiled widely. "Thanks, Vicky," she said, then paused. "Do you really mean that?"

"Of course I do," replied Vicky, before she saw the playful gleam in her sister's eye. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing," Amy assured her innocently. "I was just thinking, it's been ages since we went out and had fun together. Go down to the Boardwalk, have dinner together, maybe catch a movie ...?"

Victoria looked at her suspiciously. "Are you trying to guilt me into a _date?"_

"No!" protested Amy. Then she grinned. "Well, maybe. But it doesn't _have_ to be a date. It could be just a chance for two sisters to catch up, talk about things, have fun together. Like we used to do. Those were fun, weren't they?"

Reluctantly, Victoria nodded. "They were.". She eyed her sister. "Would you be okay with it _not_ being a date?". She paused. "I'm guessing that it being a date would mean you'd want a kiss at some point."

Amy nodded. "If you don't want it to be a date, then it can be a perfectly normal day out," she assured Victoria. "The _last_ thing I want to do is freak you out."

Vicky regarded her with a bemused air, as though she were not quite sure how she had gotten to this point in the conversation.

"Okay, I'll tell you what," she said at last. "If you're really good all the way through, and you don't grab my ass, or try to get romantic in the movies, and don't freak me out in any way, then _maybe_ I'll let you have a kiss at the end of the night. But only if you're good, mind."

_A fun day out, where I don't have to watch out for her making moves on me, and reward her with a kiss at the end_, she thought. _I can do that._

She concentrated on feeling noble, and resolutely ignored the part of her that was very interested in knowing if another kiss from Amy would feel as good as the first one. That had _nothing _to do with her decision; she was just being nice to her poor love-struck lesbian sister, that was all.

Amy squealed and hugged her. Vicky grinned and hugged her back. She knew these hugs of old; this was pure Amy, for as long as she'd known her.

Amy looked up at her. "Is holding hands okay?" she asked ingenuously. "Because we used to do that all the time, too."

This was true; they had. Vicky sighed. "Yes, we can hold hands," she said with a fond smile. "I won't freak out."

Amy hugged her again, then let her go. "You might want to get ready to see Dean," she said with a grin.

Vicky gave her an answering grin, ruffled her hair, and went upstairs.

_Yes!_ exulted Amy. _Yes! Yes! Yes! We're going on a date!_ She paused. _**Maybe **__a date_, she corrected herself. But even that 'maybe' was cause for celebration.

_Ice cream time._

* * *

End of Part 10


	11. Chapter 11

**Finding the Way**

* * *

Part 11: A Death and a Lesson

* * *

The phone rang insistently at six the next morning; Danny finally clawed his way out of a deep sleep to hear it shrilling in the kitchen. Teleporting to the kitchen, he picked up the phone.

_I'm going to have to get a cordless,_ he decided.

"Hebert household, Danny speaking," he mumbled.

"_Pathfinder_," said Director Piggot, on the other end of the phone. _"We need you and Compass Rose, immediately. Is she able to work?"_

"Uh, Director Piggot?" he asked stupidly.

_"Are you and Compass Rose able to work?"_she asked sharply. Upstairs, he felt Taylor's sleeping presence gain awareness, slipping into drowsiness and then to wakefulness.

"Uh, sure," he replied. "I guess...?". Upstairs, the warm presence that was Taylor got out of bed and padded to the bathroom.

_"Good. I need you two in my office in ten minutes."_. Without farther ado, she hung up.

Danny looked at the phone, just a little bemused, then hung it up as well.

* * *

Taylor looked up as her father rapped on the bathroom door. "The Director wants us on deck in ten minutes!" he called.

"Be right out!" she called back.

* * *

Amy Dallon kissed her sister on the cheek as she sat down to breakfast. "Morning, Vicky," she said cheerfully. "Morning, Mom. Morning, Dad."

Victoria Dallon swallowed toast before replying. "Morning, Ames.". Mark Dallon smiled and nodded a benign greeting from the head of the table, while Carol Dallon contented herself with a nod that could have meant anything.

Amy buttered a piece of toast, then glanced at Victoria. Her sister seemed to be less than her usual chirpy, morning-person self at the moment. "Something the matter, Vicky?"

Her sister shook her head and sighed. "No, it's just Dean. We had an argument last night."

"Well, tell you what," Amy said brightly. "Why don't we have a day out together on Saturday, just you and me? We'll shop on the Boardwalk, eat horribly fattening chocolate sundaes, maybe catch a movie, and you can tell me all about how horrible and insensitive Dean can be."

Victoria Dallon eyed her sister warily. _I think she just roped me into that date/not date thing,_she realised. "Well ..." she temporised.

Mark Dallon put down his newspaper and smiled. "I think that's a _great_ idea," he said approvingly. "Amy, that's really nice of you to support your sister like that.". He raised a finger. "In fact, I'll give you each fifty dollars to spend on yourselves while you're out."

Amy smiled at Mark, while Vicky glanced at him, just a little surprised. "Uh, thanks, Dad," she said hesitantly. "I guess ... it's a date, then.". She could have bitten her tongue the moment the word escaped her lips, but it had been said and could not now be unsaid.

And a quick glance sideways at her sister's look of secret delight _- no, she didn't miss _**_that_**_, did she? -_showed her that she could not easily retract what she had said.

_I could tell her that it's not _**_actually _**_a date, later, and she would accept that, but it would be mean to her, and it would feel like going back on my word._

An internal, resigned, sigh.

_Well, I guess it's a date after all. If she's good, she gets her kiss._

_Oh well, it could be worse. She could be a terrible kisser._

_And look at how happy it's made her. I can't take_**_that_**_away from her now._

She smiled at Amy. "Thanks, Ames. Saturday it is."

And strangely, she found herself rather looking forward to it.

* * *

Pathfinder and Compass Rose appeared in front of Director Piggot's desk approximately twenty seconds before the required time. Their costumes were immaculate, although her dark curly hair hung damply down her back, instead of being collected in a bun under her helmet. Piggot decided to let that go; it was a very minor thing, after all.

"We have Jack Slash's current location surrounded," she began without preamble. "The men on the ground are waiting on a go order, but we want to ensure that he's still on site, and ascertain the status of any hostages.". She handed a sheet of paper to Taylor. "These are the details we have on the occupants of that house."

Taylor looked it over, her free hand holding her father's. She absorbed the details, built a gestalt for each person. The parents were easy; the DMV had supplied driver's license photos. She had to take the most time on the written description of the young child.

Director Piggot watched Compass Rose scan the sheet. Behind the goggles, her eyes went momentarily unfocused, then she blinked once.

"He's still in the house. All three people on this paper are still alive, although the husband has several serious wounds, probably caused by Jack Slash, probably to keep the wife in line. He's been bandaged, but some of the bandages have been cut. He's lying on what looks like a sofa in the living room."

She took a deep breath. "The child is unharmed, just as the wife is, but I think Jack suspects something. He keeps looking out the windows. His wounds do not appear to be hampering him too badly."

She raised her head. "Right. Dad, when he goes into the back room …"

"The baby?" he asked her.

"If we grab her prematurely, it may alert him."

"If we _don't_, he may kill her out of spite."

Director Piggot spoke up unexpectedly. "Can you get men into the house?"

Danny nodded. "Easily."

Piggot called up a personnel file on the computer, spun the monitor around. "This is Commander Evans. He's in charge. He should be around the command post, out of sight of the house, of course. I'll send him your clearances."

Taylor nodded. "Got him." She squeezed her father's hand, and they vanished in a billow of smoke.

* * *

They appeared at the command post, just as Evans was putting down the radio comm unit. He wa a tall, spare man, in his late forties, but with that hard, fit body that never seems to age. "Compass Rose and Pathfinder, I presume?" he asked.

Danny nodded. "We need six men, armoured and armed. And I presume you have others covering the back door?"

Evans nodded, and spoke into his comm. "I do, but I doubt he'll come out that way."

Taylor worked to keep her face straight. "He might change his mind."

Evans looked at her a little dubiously. She held Danny's hand tightly, for reassurance; all of a sudden, she was a lot less sure of the plan.

The six men arrived, Danny arranged them, each with a hand on the next man's shoulder, guns up and ready. "Your target will be in front of you when you arrive," he said. "You are free to fire as soon as you see him."

They waited; Taylor had Danny shift them a little around to the right. They waited a little more. One of the men fidgeted; Evans snapped a command. The man stilled.

Taylor's head came up. "On three," she said. Everyone came to full alert.

"One. Two. Thr-"

They vanished in a puff of purple-brown smoke.

* * *

Jack Slash prowled through the house, his thoughts dark. They were out there, he knew. He could feel them. The woman would be no trouble, and the baby was extra insurance. But as moving hostages, difficult. Easier to slash their throats and make a run for it. Kill as many as he could before –

" – ee!"

The air shifted behind him; purple-brown smoke billowed out. Guns levelled out of it, pointed at him. He swung the knife, slashed, dived for the door. Shots slammed out. Some hit him. He hit the door, burst through it, rolled on the ground. More shots hit him. Too many. He tried to reach his knees, to swing the knife, but a large man in a PRT uniform stepped up and levelled an assault rifle. He reached for something defiant to say –

* * *

There was one final shot from outside. A burly sergeant appeared in the doorway. "It's safe to come out now. He's dead."

Neither Taylor nor Danny took him up on the offer.

* * *

Pathfinder and Compass Rose sat in front of Director Piggot's desk.

"You've done well for a first official outing." Her tone was approving. "All hostages saved, the bad guy dead." She paused. "_Jack Slash_ dead."

Danny nodded. "So what happens next?" he asked.

Taylor's stomach rumbled. "Hopefully, involving food," she said. "We didn't get breakfast."

Director Piggot nodded. "Go get something to eat," she said. "Be back in an hour. We have the TV spot to shoot."

Danny and Taylor looked at each other.

"TV spot?" they asked simultaneously.

Piggot nodded again. "Just a ten-minute spot. It'll be on the news tonight. Miss Militia will introduce you as the two new members of the Wards and the Protectorate."

"Wow," said Taylor. "And so ... what will we need to say?"

Director Piggot inclined her head. "Not much. Just your names, and a little about your powers." She raised a finger. "Downplay them. Do _not_ show off, like you did with Aegis. Bad guys watch the news too."

Taylor nodded. "Okay," she said. "I got it." She stood up from the chair. "Uh .. I meant to say earlier ... thanks for ... giving us this chance ..."

Director Piggot shook her head. "No thanks necessary," she said. "It was a unanimous decision." She waved a hand, a shooing motion. "Go. Eat. We do not want your stomach rumbling on national TV."

Danny grinned behind his mask, grasped Taylor's hand. "One hour?" he said.

"One hour," she confirmed.

Billowing smoke, and they were gone.

* * *

They were standing in the living room once more.

"Actually, Dad," said Taylor as she took her helmet off, "if you just stood there and teleported to the same location over and over, it might make a fair-sized cloud of smoke, or fog, or whatever that stuff is."

"Huh," said Danny, likewise removing his headgear. "I'll have to try that sometime. What would you like to eat?"

Taylor grinned, dropping her overcoat on the sofa. "I don't care. Just start serving it up."

They ate in companionable silence, sandwiches and fruit from the fridge. They didn't need anything fancy, and nor did they want it.

* * *

They got back to base three minutes ahead of schedule; this time, Taylor's hair was properly bundled up under her helmet. Piggot approved; the least amount of visual cues people got to identify them, the better.

"It's being shot at the TV news studio, downtown," she told them. "Miss Militia is on site."

Taylor nodded. "Okay, got it."

Danny looked at the Director. "Did you want to come along?" he asked. "I can have you back here after the shoot."

She shook her head regretfully. "I have far too much paperwork to deal with," she told him. "But I will take you up on that, sometime."

* * *

Miss Militia looked up as they arrived. "Ah," she said. "Good. You're here." She shook Danny's hand, and then Taylor's. "Good work with Jack Slash."

Danny shrugged. "The PRT did all the work; we just expedited."

She nodded. "It's called teamwork for a reason. Commander Evans had some very nice things to say in his report."

Taylor grinned. "He was a lot happier after it was over, I'll say that."

The older woman nodded again. "Good officers are always happy when their men come through without a scratch." She looked searchingly at them. "So how do you feel about your first major action?"

"I'm just happy no-one else got hurt," said Taylor promptly.

Danny nodded. "Something like that," he said, putting an arm around Taylor's shoulders.

"That can be a concern," said Miss Militia. "I'd like to sit down with the two of you sometime, and work out tactics and strategies to use with your powers."

Taylor grinned. "That could be really cool."

Danny nodded. "I think ... I would really like that."

"Good," said Miss Militia. She looked around. "Ah, they're calling us. Let's get you into position."

* * *

They were dabbing powder on to Taylor's nose and cheeks as a last-minute bid to deal with glare, and giving her instructions at the same time.

Basically, as far as she could see, they boiled down to 'wait till Miss Militia begins to introduce us, then teleport in'. But for some reason, they seemed to want to dress it up in a dozen different extra options, then dress it down into baby talk.

She wanted to snap, to tell them to leave her alone, that she had it. But she didn't, because this _was_ her first TV spot, and she didn't want to make a bad impression. And then she felt Danny's hand resting gently on her shoulder, and it made all the difference.

* * *

_"And allow me to introduce ..."_

On th screen, Miss Militia gestured at an empty spot on the stage. A drumroll began to sound.

"What's going on?" asked Regent, wandering into the room.

"Shh!" said Tattletale. "A couple new capes are joining the Protectorate and the Wards. They're introducing them now."

The drumroll built to a crescendo, then just as it ended, there was a billow of purple-brown smoke at the spot indicated. As it dissipated, two figures could be seen standing there, a taller masculine figure with his hand on the shoulder of a shorter feminine figure.

"Damn," said Grue admiringly. "Nice entrance."

"Eh, I've seen better," said Regent disparagingly.

Bitch said nothing, barely even looking at the screen as she groomed her dogs.

The spot went on; the two capes seated themselves with Miss Militia, and were introduced as Pathfinder and Compass Rose.

"Sh!" said Tattletale suddenly. "Holy shit. It's her. It's _them!"_

Grue looked at her enquiringly. "Them who?"

Tattletale's eyes were glued to the screen. "The girl and her dad from the mall, you know, just before Christmas? The girl was thinking about suicide?"

Grue frowned. "I remember .. sort of."

Tattletale nodded. "Well, that's them."

"Holy shit," said Grue.

"God damn," muttered Regent. "And we know what they look like."

Tattletale got up to go to the kitchen; she was just coming back when she heard the rattle of keys from Regent's laptop.

"Oh shit," she said. "You didn't just ... fuck, what did you _say_ to them?"

Regent chuckled; even Grue was grinning and shaking his head. "Just shaking their tree a bit, is all."

Tattletale leaned over and read the message Regent had sent to Compass Rose's email address.

_Hey, mall girl._

_Still thinking about killing yourself?_

_Have a nice day._

_R_

Her face drained white. "Fuck!" she gasped. "Everyone, up! Grab what shit you can carry! We've got to get the fuck out of here!"

Regent looked up at her. "Why?" he asked. "It's an anonymous account. No way they'll trace it."

"Weren't you _listening?"_ she shouted at him. "She _finds_ things. And that might mean people, too. Or the laptop you just sent that from." She pointed her finger at him. "And you just got her total and undivided attention."

Grue started to get up. "How long do we have?" he asked.

"I don't know," said Tattletale. "But we have to assume less than an hour."

* * *

Six an a half minutes later, there was a burst of purple-brown smoke that filled half the room. When it cleared, half a dozen PRT troops were standing there, training guns on all four members of the Undersiders. Two more guns were aimed at Bitch's dogs. Slightly behind and between the PRT men were the now-familiar forms of Pathfinder and Compass Rose.

Pathfinder was the first to speak.

"Hi. We'd like a _word_ with you."

* * *

Grue shouted in alarm and darkness washed out from him, filling the room.

"Grue!" shouted Compass Rose. _"I can see you! Stand down!"_

He looked her way. She was holding a pistol, small enough to fit in her hand. It was an awkward, untrained grip, but the barrel was pointed dead-centre at him. He stepped to the side. The barrel shifted to follow him.

_Oh. Crap._

"We're here to talk!" shouted Pathfinder. "No hostilities!"

"What about all the _guns?"_demanded Regent, out of the darkness.

"That's just to get your attention!" shouted Compass Rose. "Now _stand down_. I haven't shot you yet; I'm not about to, unless someone does something stupid!"

Gradually, reluctantly, Grue reduced his darkness until it roiled around his face and body.

"So talk," he said.

* * *

The rifles were held at port arms; none of the Undersiders were threatened by them, but the awareness that they could be was always there. Compass Rose had put her little pistol away, and now she and Pathfinder stood side by side, facing the four Undersiders.

"Who sent the mail?" asked Compass Rose quietly.

Regent didn't speak, but Tattletale nudged him. "Yeah, me," he said grudgingly.

She stepped forward to confront him. "That was a _really fucking stupid_ thing to do," she said very softly. "That thing that you said? That was one step away from threatening to out us. And you just came out and _said_ it."

Tattletale was staring at her. "Christ," she blurted. "The reason they're so hot to keep you two under wraps ... you're _better_ than –"

Abruptly, Pathfinder was right in front of her, in the midst of a cloud of dissipating purple-brown smoke. "That sentence had better end right there," he said very firmly. She looked at his tinted goggles, his face-concealing mask, and thought better of continuing.

He spoke again, loud enough for each of the Undersiders to hear.

"You four kids know two things that the PRT wishes to keep well under wraps; that is, what our faces look like, and the full extent of our powers. This can go two ways. The first way is that we deliver you gift-wrapped to Director Piggot –"

"Yeah, right," sneered Regent.

Compass Rose had not shifted from her position in front of him. "You've already made one serious error of judgement tonight. Don't make it two."

Tattletale nodded urgently. "Regent. _Shut the fuck up."_

Compass Rose nodded approvingly. "As Pathfinder was saying, we can hand you over and you will just ... disappear. Or, we can do the other thing."

"Which is?" asked Grue warily.

"We leave," she said simply. "You go about your business. But you _never, ever_ tell anyone about what you know. And we _never, ever_ make it our business to make sure you are never seen again."

Regent snorted. "And tomorrow, or the next day, these guys come back with some buddies and kick in our door anyway."

Pathfinder didn't even look over that way. "Sergeant Morris!"

"Sir!"

"Do you have any idea of where you are right now?"

"Sir, no, sir! I'm from Miami, sir!"

"Are you going to be telling anybody anything about what's happened in this room, Morris?"

"Sir, I don't even believe we were _in_ this room, sir!"

Pathfinder nodded. "And so."

Tattletale stared. "Christ," she whispered. "You've got _that_ much pull with –"

He wagged a finger. She shut up.

"So," said Compass Rose. "We have an agreement?" She looked around at them. "Just remember. From here on in, no matter where you go, no matter what you look like, I _can_ find you, and I _will_ find you if I have to."

Grue nodded reluctantly. "Agreed."

Tattletale nodded as well. "Agreed."

Bitch glowered. "Fucking okay. I didn't even know –"

"Bitch!" hissed Grue.

"Fine. Agreed."

They looked at Regent. "Yeah, okay. Agreed."

Compass Rose took Pathfinder's hand. "And we agree to not tell anyone about this base." They stepped back to the PRT soldiers.

Pathfinder nodded to the Undersiders. "Be good. And if you can't be good –"

Compass Rose chimed in with " – don't get caught."

There was a billow of purple-brown smoke.

And then they were gone, the PRT soldiers with them.

Grue sagged limply down to the sofa again. Tattletale sat beside him.

_"That_ was fucking scary," said Grue.

Tattletale nodded. "And it could have gone a _lot_ worse."

"Were they really all that?" asked Regent.

Tattletale looked up at him. "Alec," she said softly. "They were _holding back."_

"Right," said Regent. "Okay. New resolution. Not pissing them off. Ever."

"Amen to fucking _that,"_ agreed Grue.

Bitch groomed her dogs. She had already decided on that course of action.

_If they don't attack me ... I won't attack them._

In the face of a stronger foe, it was the only sensible course.

* * *

End of Part 11


	12. Chapter 12

**Finding the Way**

* * *

Part 12: Trolling

* * *

"Hurry up, Dad!" called out Taylor. "Our TV spot's coming up soon!"

She sat back on the sofa, wearing her full costume, helmet off, just to get used to it.

A billow of smoke heralded her father's appearance, and he sat beside her on the sofa. He also wore his costume. She grinned at the image they represented; two superheroes, watching TV in full costume.

As the TV spot began, she fiddled with the new smartphone she had been issued; among other functions, it allowed her to go online. Danny had a similar one, but he wasn't as enthralled with his as she was with hers.

During the course of the TV spot, her official Wards email address was put up, along with the one for Pathfinder.

And then her phone pinged. _You have one (1) new email message_, it said.

"Hey, Dad," she said with a grin. "Check it out. My first fan mail.". She tapped the envelope icon, and the message opened up.

_Hey, mall girl, _she read. _Still thinking about killing yourself? Have a nice day. R._

She went cold all over. Danny's head whipped around as he felt the jolt of shock that surged through her body. He saw her staring at the phone; it puffed into smoke and appeared in his hand. His jaw clenched as he read it.

"_Fuck_," he grated. "Do you know who sent this?"

"No - yes," she amended her statement. "That girl in the mall on Christmas Eve. She must have somehow figured out who we were.". She concentrated on the memory, a freckled face, dirty blonde hair in a fancy braid, a knowing, vulpine smile. It unfolded into a face, an image, a location.

_I _**_know _**_that face. I _**_know _**_that location._

She had found her first by sheer fluke; looking up missing persons, she had located one Sarah Livsey, wearing a strange purple and black costume. Looking through the Parahumans Online boards, she had picked out Tattletale, of the Undersiders. The names and costumes of the other Undersiders had given her more hits, until she had solid locks on each of them, and a strong possibility for a base location.

_ Why is she messing with me now? And why 'R'? Unless it's to throw me off._

Ten seconds later, her helmet on, she faced her father. He teleported them both out of there.

* * *

There was a burst of purple-brown smoke, and the Heberts, in full costume, appeared in Director Piggot's office. She looked up with barely a start of surprise.

"If I recall correctly, you're off duty tonight," she said with just a touch of asperity.

"This is serious," said Danny, in what he was coming to think of as his 'Pathfinder voice', slower paced, and with more accent on the strong consonants. He handed over Taylor's phone.

Piggot read the message, glanced over to where the TV spot was still playing on the small screen on her desk, and then back to Taylor. "Fast work," she commented. "Do you have a line on a suspect?"

Taylor nodded tightly. "I think it's the Undersiders. I met Tattletale once before, and she knows about me and Dad."

"I see," said the Director, not bothering to ask for details. Those could come later. "What do you intend to do about it?"

"Throw a scare into them," said Danny promptly. "Can we borrow half a dozen men who can be trusted to be discreet?"

Piggot smiled thinly. "Oh, I think we can manage that.". She keyed her desk comm. "Sergeant Morris! You and five men who can keep their mouths shut, to the armoury, on the double!". She got up from behind her desk and walked carefully around it to stand in front of them. "I'll take you up on that offer of a lift, now," she said.

Taylor concentrated on the name 'Sergeant Morris'. There was only one person who went by that specific designation in the Brockton Bay PRT tower, and he appeared in her mind's eye, unfolded into a mental image, standing at attention in front of a door with five other blurry images; people, she knew. Ones she had not met yet.

* * *

Morris blinked as the sudden billow of purple-brown smoke gave way to three figures; the Director and two capes, whom he vaguely recognised as the two new intakes; they'd just been watching the TV spot on them.

"Director Piggot, ma'am!" he snapped, saluting. The other men did likewise.

"At ease," she responded, returning the salute. "This is Pathfinder, and that's Compass Rose. They have my highest confidence. They have a mission for you. You will draw rifles, one magazine each. You will follow their orders in the field. You will follow their lead. You are not to fire unless fired upon. Are there any questions?"

"Ah, yes, ma'am," said Morris promptly. "What is the aim of this mission?"

"The Undersiders have pulled our tail, Sergeant," she told him. "Compass Rose and Pathfinder wish to explain to them why they should never do that again. _Your_ job is to make sure they listen to reason."

He nodded once. "Roger that, ma'am."

The tall cape, Pathfinder, cleared his throat. "Sergeant, I have one question. What's military speak for 'don't do anything stupid'?"

Morris smiled slightly. "That would be 'stand down', sir."

Pathfinder nodded. "Ah. Thank you, Sergeant."

Piggot broke in, even as the men were taking rifles from the racks. "Also, one sidearm each for the capes, I believe. Just in case."

Morris nodded. With a practised eye, he picked out two pistols in clip-on holsters; a standard sized automatic for Pathfinder and a smaller pistol for Compass Rose.

"These are both Glocks," he told them briefly. "No external safety catch. Point and shoot. Pull back the slide to chamber the first round.". He gave them a severe glare. "These are _not_ toys. Wave them around like you're playing cowboys and indians, and I _will_ take them off you."

They nodded obediently. He turned to Piggot and saluted. "Ready to go, ma'am."

She nodded. "Go."

* * *

They teleported into the Undersiders' base. The Undersiders were frantically packing up gear.

Danny couldn't resist. "Hi. We'd like a _word_ with you."

The looks on their faces were _priceless_.

* * *

Afterward, once the weapons had been handed back in - Danny had not even had to pull his from the holster - they sat in Director Piggot's office.

"So, do you think they'll be good?" asked the Director. "Or should we think about pulling them in?"

Danny shook his head. "No, I think they got the message.". He frowned. "They were just _kids."_

"Kids," Director Piggot reminded him, "with two murder charges to their name."

Taylor looked pensive. "Maybe I should have made an offer for them to join the Wards," she mused.

It was Piggot's turn to shake her head. "After you essentially kicked in their door and pointed guns in their faces? Either their pride would demand they say no, or they'd see it as an 'or else' threat, and resent it. No, it wasn't the right time or place."

Taylor nodded. "I guess you're right.". She stood up; Danny followed suit. "I guess we'll see you tomorrow then."

Director Piggot nodded. "Good night to you.". She watched them clasp hands before the billow of smoke engulfed them, and they were gone.

* * *

Danny was cooking breakfast the next morning when Taylor came padding down the stairs in her running gear and socks.

"Morning, sleepyhead," he grinned as he leaned out of the kitchen. "You were really spark out this morning, so I decided to let you lie in a bit."

"Thanks heaps, Dad," she retorted. "I'm gonna go for my run now. Drop me off at school after breakfast?"

"Sure," he said. The insurance was still coming back for the truck, and it was still undriveable, but he wasn't worried much about that at the moment.

She came over for a hug, then headed out for her run.

* * *

Arriving back from her run in good time to get her breakfast, she enjoyed a nice companionable chat with her father before it was time to go to school.

These days, school was … different. She didn't know whether it was the way she carried herself and looked at the world, or if it was the way word had gotten around. A little of column A, and a little of column B, she expected.

She had been locked into a locker filled with the most vile trash that could be acquired in or around the school; and yet, here she was, walking around as if nothing had happened. More, she was walking tall while Sophia was gone altogether and Emma and Madison were looking very hangdog indeed. It was enough to make people wonder.

_Thanks, Dad,_ she thought. _Another one I owe you for._

Part of her new self-assurance came from her powers and her status as a Ward, she knew. But the larger part of it was from being with her father, of having him in her life, there to back her up if and when she needed it.

* * *

She went to her locker, opened it. It was spotless; even the damaged lock had been replaced. Emma and Madison were standing at their lockers, looking over at her. She grinned, reached into her bag, and pulled out the flute. Putting it to her lips, she played a few bars – about all she _could_ play, to be honest – and smiled at them, at the disbelief on their faces.

_Armsmaster really did fix it properly_, she thought. Carefully, she placed it on the shelf in her locker, placed her bag on the floor, pulled out her books, and closed her locker.

With a smile on her face and a song in her heart, she walked straight past them and on to her first class.

* * *

She was sitting in Computer Studies class, with one window logged into the Parahumans Online board, reading the chatter about herself and Pathfinder. The speculation had been intense; some had them as brother and sister, others as husband and wife. Some did advance the opinion that they were father and daughter. But the general opinion was that they were simply two people who had teamed up and chosen to wear similar costumes.

The one guy who had posted a fairly inarticulate screed about how they were _obviously_ father and daughter, and probably having an incestuous relationship, had been slammed so hard she was mildly surprised there wasn't a splatter of blood in the middle of his post. So many people had flamed him for even thinking such a thing that he had logged off shortly thereafter. There was even a discreet notification from the moderators to show that his account had been suspended for inappropriate content.

_Seriously?_ she thought. _I love Dad, but not in __**that**__ way. Get a grip._

And then, over her email address, the site popped up a message for her.

* * *

_R says sorry. Can we talk?_

_Tt._

* * *

Intrigued, she typed a message back.

* * *

_Apology accepted. About what?_

_CR_

* * *

She focused her attention, and saw Tattletale, wearing ordinary clothes, typing at a computer in the library, of all places. _Why use that, when she has internet at home?_

The next message popped up.

* * *

_Stuff. Really. Need to talk f2f. Pls?_

_Tt._

* * *

Taylor blinked. _She _**_really _**_wants to talk._

* * *

_Saturday. Boardwalk. We'll find you._

* * *

She paused before hitting Send.

* * *

_We'll bring one other. No tricks._

_CR_

* * *

The message popped up almost immediately.

* * *

_See you there._

_Tt._

* * *

She closed the page and leaned back, staring at her computer. _Now what's _**_that _**_all about?_

* * *

End of Part 12


	13. Chapter 13

**Finding the Way**

* * *

Part 13: Buildup

* * *

"Wait, _what_ again?" asked Taylor, looking dubiously at Panacea.

Panacea looked at Director Piggot. "Wait a moment," she said. "You never told them?"

Piggot looked uncomfortable. "Not the details, no."

"Details are good," said Danny. "We like details. As many as possible."

Panacea looked at them. "The Director has asked me to give you both a general tune-up; tone the muscles, remove excess body fat, deal with any health problems."

Taylor looked at the Director. "Why all this? Why for us?"

"Because you two are possibly the most useful and versatile recruits we have ever gotten," said Piggot bluntly. "I cannot emphasise this enough. I'm authorising this, building up a large debt of goodwill toward Panacea and New Wave, in the hopes that you will continue to work with us and for us for the foreseeable future."

"Oh, okay," said Danny. "That sort of makes sense. I guess." He paused. "Oh, one more thing. You fixed my eyes, in the hospital. Could you do the same thing for Taylor?"

Panacea nodded. "As easily as snapping your fingers. Easier, actually. I never got the hang of that."

The Director looked at them over her desk. "So, Danny, Taylor. Panacea's told you what she intends to do. Do you agree to go through with this?"

"I have one question," said Danny. He turned to Panacea. "What do you get out of this? I thought you didn't do requests."

Panacea smiled. "I ... owe you ... just a little," she said. "I'll tell you how and why, later. But for the most part ..." She grinned. "Having the PRT owe you a really huge favour is a nice thing to have in the bank for a rainy day."

"I can imagine," agreed Taylor with a return grin.

Panacea smiled. "Okay, who first?"

Taylor raised her hand. "Me?"

Panacea looked at Danny, who shrugged. "I can wait," he said with a grin.

She reached out to take Taylor's hands. "Ready?" she asked.

Taylor nodded, suddenly nervous.

Panacea breathed in deeply, then breathed out again. Taylor felt ... she wasn't sure what. Her eyes were suddenly blurry; the glasses putting everything out of focus. The rest of her body ... it was like warm water had just washed through her, changing everything ever so slightly. Or maybe it was her imagination.

She reached up, removed her glasses. Everything was crystal clear.

""Wow," she murmured. "This is awesome."

"You can get fake ones to wear in public," said the Director. "Keeps you in character as yourselves."

Taylor nodded. "Such a small change ..." She looked at Panacea. "And everything else went through okay?"

Panacea nodded. "Everything," she confirmed.

Taylor nodded. "Well, I feel fine. Dad, your turn."

Danny stepped forward and allowed Panacea to take his hands. With a perfectly straight face, he said, "Please, be gentle with me. It's my first time."

Panacea stared at him, then burst into a fit of the giggles. They were so strong that she had to sit down and recover before she was able to continue. Taylor started laughing too, and even the Director could not conceal a smile. But Danny was also soon given the treatment. He didn't even feel a thing.

"Well, if there's nothing else you need," said Taylor, "we can be going now."

Director Piggot nodded. "We'll forward the next batch of missing persons to your smart phone."

Taylor smiled. "Sure. I'll be sure to let the local police know where they are, if they're in trouble."

"Every little bit helps," agreed the Director.

"Ready to go, kiddo?" asked Danny.

Taylor smiled and turned to him. Purple-brown smoke billowed up to hide them, and when it dissipated, they were gone.

"Thank you once again for your assistance," said Director Piggot to Panacea She paused. "So .. why _did_ you agree so readily to help them out? What debt is this that you owe them?"

Amy cleared her throat again. "Let us just say ... seeing them, how they nearly lost each other .. they gave me the incentive to take a certain step."

Director Piggot looked at her searchingly; she saw Amy's eyes cut across to the office door, where Glory Girl was leaning, chatting to the receptionist.

Vicky felt Piggot's gaze on her, turned, and said "What?"

Director Piggot looked back to Amy, who blushed.

"... nothing," said the Director.

She watched the pair leave, then closed her office door firmly. _Thank goodness Panacea fixed my kidneys,_ she said to herself as she opened the bottom drawer of her desk. _Otherwise this might have killed me._

She took out the bottle of bonded whiskey, poured herself a strong shot, and knocked it back. It burned all the way down.

_Panacea and Glory Girl. Christ all-fucking-mighty._

* * *

Vicky was at breakfast the next morning when Amy came trotting down the stairs. She wore a T-shirt and a pair of jeans, and a very cheerful expression. Sitting down next to her sister, she dived into her breakfast like she had been starving for a week.

"Morning, Vicky," she said happily. "Ready for our da-"

_Oh Christ,_ thought Victoria, _she's gonna call it a 'date' in front of everyone._

Amy giggled internally. _Wouldn't Vicky flip if I called it a 'date'?_

"-y out?" she finished saying.

Glory Girl smiled at her sister. _Crisis averted._ "Sure, Ames," she said. "So what have you got planned?"

Amy grinned. _"Everything,"_ she said, rather extravagantly.

Mark nodded, from the head of the table. "Good. Enjoy yourselves, girls. We'll call if we need an assist at anything."

Amy smiled at him. "Thanks, Dad," she said. "I'm _so_ looking forward to this."

_So am I,_ thought Victoria. _How _**_about _**_that?_

* * *

**Coil: Universe A **

* * *

"So what's my role in all this again?" asked Miss Militia.

"Basically, to let her know we're serious," said Taylor.

"Also, to provide backup in the unlikely circumstance that this goes pear-shaped," added Danny.

"In civilian clothes?" said Miss Militia.

Taylor smiled. "We're going to talk to Tattletale, remember. You could be wearing a _burqua_ and she'd know who you were."

Miss Militia nodded. "In that case ... call me Hannah."

Taylor smiled. "Thanks for helping us out with this."

Hannah shrugged. "The Director has given your requests a priority rating. And to be asked to a meeting with Tattletale has certain connotations; we want this to go smoothly."

Taylor nodded, and frowned. "I wonder why she hasn't called yet?"

* * *

Lisa struggled against her bonds and screamed.

"It will do you no good," said Coil, stepping forward. "You may as well save your breath for when I am actually asking questions."

Lisa gritted her teeth and struggled again. She wasn't a telepath; she _knew_ she wasn't a telepath. All the same, she tried very hard indeed. _Compass Rose, for God's sake, look for me. Please._

On the table before her lay a row of hypodermic syringes; the contents were generally a variation on the straw-yellow of blood serum, but she knew what each and every one of them would do to her. And she was utterly _terrified._

Coil, of course, knew this. This was why he had had these needles laid out for her inspection. For anyone else, he would have had to explain, in detail. For her, he merely needed to hint. Her power filled everything else in.

"So," he said. "the questions. You have recently encountered a pair of new parahumans called Pathfinder and Compass Rose. They invaded your base, with enough force to capture you all, and yet left you alone and alive after the fact. And just two days ago, you contacted them, asking for a meeting."

He leaned close to her. "I am very curious about these two. Please tell me all you know about Pathfinder and Compass Rose. Most especially, any points of leverage which I may find ... useful."

Lisa spat in his face.

He wiped the spittle off, and then turned to the guards. "Bamboo slivers, I think. Under the fingernails. Take your time."

Lisa screamed, uselessly.

* * *

**Coil: Universe B**

* * *

The picture was small and grainy, so he could not get a good look at the faces, but Lisa was definitely sitting down with two people who fitted the body types of Pathfinder and Compass Rose, and one other, a dark-skinned woman. He didn't know her.

This was the irritation at trying to get around Tattletale's power; if he tried to get a minion any closer, or used a larger pickup, she would get a hint, and it would be all over.

But he knew she was meeting with them, and knowledge was a lever.

"I never wanted to be in the Undersiders," said Lisa.

"What?" asked Taylor. She sucked at her milkshake. "Why don't you leave, then?"

"One reason," said Lisa. "Coil."

Taylor's eyes went unfocused as she tried to get a read on that name. Suddenly, she had it; crime lord, never did anything big himself, contracted out to others.

"Tall, skinny guy, wears a black costume with a white snake on it?" she asked.

Tattletale looked at her with respect. "Christ, that was fast."

Taylor smiled slightly. "You do some pretty amazing things too."

Lisa shrugged slightly. "Can you get a read on his location?"

Taylor grinned. "To the metre. He's in some sort of base. I'm getting the impression of metal catwalks."

"Well, he had me coerced into the Undersiders at gunpoint. He knows what I can do. If I try to leave, he'll have me killed. And I'm terrified he'll just kidnap me one day and keep me prisoner to answer questions for him."

Danny, sitting at the next table with Hannah, blinked. "Christ. That shit _happens?"_

Hannah put her hand on his. "More often than you would think, Danny."

Danny blinked again, this time at her hand, resting on his. Then he looked at her face.

She smiled slightly at him.

"I –" he said lamely.

"Yes?" she asked.

He didn't answer. But nor did he withdraw his hand.

* * *

"Oh hey," said Amy. "There's Taylor and Danny."

"Who?" asked Victoria. She was wearing a brightly-coloured sundress, and holding hands with her sister, as agreed.

It was a nice feeling, to be honest. To be out on a carefree day with the person she loved the most – in a platonic sense, of course – and who loved her, to have fun, to enjoy the sights. To hold hands.

She knew at the end of the day that she would be giving Amy a kiss. She accepted this; it was a not too onerous price to be paid for a fun day out.

They had already gone through the merchant stalls; ice creams had been purchased and consumed, and Vicky had bought Amy a necklace comprising of coloured seashells of various types. Amy had gotten for Vicky a pair of earrings, each with a brass "G" dangling from it. Each wore the other's present proudly.

Giving things to each other was _fun_.

* * *

Taylor looked up as she saw Amy waving. Sitting up, she waved back.

"Have you met Amy and Vicky?" she asked. "Panacea and Glory Girl?"

"Not officially," said Lisa with a grin. She turned to look at the pair just arriving, and blinked.

_Whoa, __she thought. __These two have changed things up a bit._

"Hey, how's it going?" asked Amy as she came up. Taylor stood, and they hugged warmly.

"Really good," grinned Taylor.

"Excellent," said Amy happily.

The Dallon girls chatted for a little while longer, then said their goodbyes and headed off, still hand in hand.

* * *

**Coil: Universe A **

* * *

Lisa's voice had gone from screams of agony to whimpers of pain, and she was slumped over in her bonds. Blood trickled from under her nails.

"Now," said Coil. "Let us see if the needles will be of any use."

* * *

Taylor's phone rang. She snatched it up. "Tattletale?" she said.

_"No, this is Grue,"_ she heard. _"You know, the darkness guy?"_

"I know who you are," said Taylor, his image filling her mind. "Why are you calling? I'm waiting on a call from Tattletale."

_"She's disappeared,_" he said, his voice full of worry. _"And she left a note; if she vanished, to call you."_

Taylor's hand gripped Danny's as her eyes unfocused.

"Oh Christ!" she blurted. "She's being tortured!"

She stood up, dragging Danny with her. She dropped the phone; it puffed into smoke, reappeared in Danny's free hand. He dropped it on the desk. She grabbed Miss Militia's arm with her other hand, drove the knowledge of a location into Danny's mind. They appeared next to Grue, who was still holding the phone to his ear. Danny grabbed him. They went again.

* * *

Coil held up a syringe, tapped it with his fingertip. "You _know_ what this will do," he murmured. "Tell me, and all the pain will go away."

Lisa sobbed, not even able to hold her head up. Her fingernails hurt terribly. The guards had been thorough. "Compass Rose and Pathfinder ..."

He stepped closer. "Yes?"

In the corner of the room, purple-brown smoke billowed. Almost instantly, darkness washed out to fill the room.

_"Are here,"_ grated Lisa, lurching forward to sink her teeth into his wrist. He screamed and dropped the syringe.

* * *

Miss Militia could not see. But she felt Taylor grab her hand. "Pistol," said Taylor. There was a pistol in her hand. Taylor guided her aim, squeezed her hand. Miss Militia squeezed the trigger. Again. And again.

Six muffled pops, six men went down, each shot in the centre of the face.

"I've got Coil!" snarled Grue. _He_ could see perfectly, of course.

* * *

Coil wrenched his wrist clear of Lisa's teeth. He considered drawing his pistol and shooting her, but she would just lean out of the way.

And then a battering-ram smashed into his face.

Coil could not see, did not know what was happening. His best guess was that two or three men, all experts in martial arts, were using him as a practise dummy. But it was just Grue. Trained in boxing, fighting mad.

He got Coil up against the wall of the cell, even as Taylor got Lisa out of the chair, and proceeded to coldly and scientifically beat him to death.

* * *

**Coil: Universe B **

* * *

Coil shut that universe down.

_What the fuck just _**_happened?_** he asked himself.

He recalled sudden darkness. _Grue._

The muffled pops of shooting. _No-one can see through Grue's darkness except him. He must have had a gun._

The hammer-blows that rained on him, beat him down, gave him no respite. _Grue again._

_How did he get into the cell?_

_Compass Rose and Pathfinder?_

He was suddenly aware that he knew far too little of the situation.

And there, on the screen, Lisa sat, talking to them.

_What is she telling them?_

He had no idea.

He began to feel very worried indeed.

* * *

"Would you come with me, to speak to Director Piggot, about Coil?" asked Taylor.

"What, like this, unmasked?" said Lisa.

"If you intend to leave the Undersiders anyway ..." said Danny encouragingly.

Lisa tilted her head. "You pose a valid point. Let's go."

Coil watched them stand, clasp hands, and disappear in a billow of smoke. But there was something, just before they had vanished ...

He played it back.

_Fuck, she knew he was there all the time._

* * *

"Why did you do that?" asked Taylor curiously.

"Do what?" asked Lisa innocently.

"Give the finger to midair, just before we went."

Lisa grinned. "Oh, no reason."

* * *

They entered Director Piggot's office. The Director looked up. "Your meeting was – oh."

"Director Piggot," said Danny formally. "This is Tattletale."

"Otherwise known as Lisa Wilbourn," offered Lisa.

"Interesting," said the Director urbanely. "The name we had for you was Sarah Livsey."

Tattletale looked at Taylor. "Compass Rose indeed, huh?" Taylor grinned at her.

Director Piggot frowned, covering papers up. "Did you have to bring her here?" she asked. "She's a highly dangerous Thinker."

"She's offering us Coil on a plate," said Miss Militia. "Or rather, the names of his men."

"Which we can use to pull them out and dump them in cells," said Taylor. "And Coil himself, too, of course."

"So what do we need her for?" asked the Director.

"I know stuff you don't," said Lisa with her fox-like grin.

"Such as ...?"

Lisa shook her head. "Play ball. Give me something to go for. I don't want to be an ex-Undersider. I want something to move into."

Piggot sighed. _"Fine_. A provisional membership in the Wards. Good enough?"

Lisa nodded. "Good enough. His real name is Thomas Calvert. And he's got men all the way through the PRT."

The Director's eyes went very wide indeed. "You had better be _fucking_ kidding. I've known Calvert for ten years."

Lisa shook her head. "Total disclosure. That's his name."

Director Piggot looked at Taylor. She blinked twice, and said, "It's him. It's Coil."

"Shit," snarled the Director. "All the stuff he knows ... who and where are his men in the PRT?"

"I don't know their names," said Tattletale, "but I'll know 'em when I see 'em."

"And I'll know where they are and what they're doing," put in Taylor.

Piggot smiled coldly. "Well then," she said. "Let's see how good you two are."

She pulled up the personnel files for the local PRT and turned the screen toward them.

And thus the war began.

* * *

End of Part 13


	14. Chapter 14

**Finding the Way**

* * *

Part 14: The Silent War

* * *

It was a very _quiet_ war.

* * *

**Universe 1:**

* * *

Amy and Victoria, still walking along the Boardwalk, still hand in hand, were utterly unaware of it.

In fact, most people people in Brockton Bay were unaware of it.

It took place in two locations, separated by several miles; each was equally secure, in its own way. But that security meant nothing against infiltrators from within.

And there were casualties.

Many, many casualties.

* * *

**Universe 2:**

* * *

Thomas Calvert left his base, got into his unassuming car, started the drive home. He decided that a nice quiet restful night at home would do him the world of good. And if the attack on the PRT building went bad, he would try something else tomorrow.

* * *

**Universe 1:**

* * *

It started slowly.

Director Piggot turned the screen of her desk computer toward Lisa and Taylor. Taylor took a firm grip of her father's hand.

Taylor took in the screen at a glance; each picture expanded into a mental image of a man or woman in PRT uniform, at their workstation or in casual clothes at home. Or, in one case, in an underground location. She _knew_ that location.

"That one's one, isn't he?" she asked, pointing.

Lisa nodded. "And this one, this one, this one, this one and this one." She grabbed the mouse, highlighted the appropriate ones, including Taylor's choice.

Director Piggot blinked. "How did you know that one, Compass Rose?" she asked.

Taylor shrugged. "He's in Coil's base."

"You know where that is, for certain?" asked Piggot sharply.

Taylor nodded. "Sure. I know where Coil is, and it's an underground location." She moved to a wall map. "Here." Her nail made a tiny indentation on the paper.

Piggot stared at the location. "Damn. Right." She took a deep breath. "Okay, let's keep going."

She showed them screen after screen, and Lisa kept picking them, and Taylor kept locating them.

And then Taylor raised her head. "That one there just got a phone call," she said.

Director Piggot frowned. "And?" she asked.

"And Coil just made a phone call," Taylor clarified. "Sorry." She paused again. "And now this guy's working on his computer. Typing something in."

"Can you tell what?" asked Miss Militia.

Taylor shook her head. "Sorry, I can only just about tell it's a computer."

"I don't think we should let him –" began Miss Militia ... and then the room went dark, as did the computer screen.

"Shit!" snapped Director Piggot.

There was a knocking on the door. "Director?" shouted a voice. "Are you all right in there?"

Lisa put her hand on Miss Militia's shoulder. "Hostile," she murmured.

The door opened; Miss Militia fired an assault rifle from the shoulder. The man, a PRT officer from the uniform, fell to the ground. His gun fell beside him.

"What the hell? What's going on?" came shouts from the outer office.

"We have to go, now!" snapped Lisa.

"Dad!" said Taylor, and grabbed Miss Militia's shoulder. Lisa grabbed her arm. Danny grabbed the Director. Taylor gave him a location. He went there.

Two seconds after the cloud of purple-brown smoke dissipated, two grenades bounced in through the open door, and made rather a mess of the room.

* * *

**Universe 2:**

* * *

Thomas Calvert stopped at the lights and waited for them to change.

In Director Piggot's office, Taylor and Lisa had finished identifying and locating the moles in the Brockton Bay PRT.

* * *

**Universe 1:**

* * *

They were in the armoury. It was dark. Miss Militia's assault rifle dissolved, reformed with a tactical light. She splashed it around the room. "What are we looking for?"

"Grenades," said Taylor grimly. She saw them, dragged Danny toward them. She raised her head. "Some of them are shooting your loyal soldiers. They know who they are, the loyal guys don't." She looked at the grenades. "Which are lethal, which just knockout?"

Director Piggot pointed. "Flash-bang, frag, smoke, tear gas."

Danny nodded. "Good enough."

Taylor grabbed a flash-bang, pulled the pin, handed it to her father. Gripped his hand. The grenade disappeared in a puff of smoke. She grabbed a frag grenade, pulled the pin, handed it to him, held his hand. It went.

Again, and again, and again, they repeated the process. And Miss Militia and Director Piggot watched, and wondered. And Lisa watched, and knew.

* * *

**Universe 2:**

* * *

Director Piggot made phone calls. And at the end of each call, a PRT officer looked blankly at the phone, then stood up and moved to a colleague. Quiet words were exchanged. They moved in on another colleague. Plastic cuffs were utilised. It was all very quiet, very clean. No-one managed to raise the alarm.

* * *

**Universe 1:**

* * *

At first, Coil's men, throughout the PRT tower, had it all their way. He had started the ball rolling with a single phone call. "Decapitate."

The man who had received the call opened a window on his workstation, typed in an access code he certainly should not have been using, and then typed in a command that should not have worked. Power went out in certain parts of the building, including Director Piggot's office, and the electronic locks for the armoury, and the Wards' part of the tower.

All around the PRT tower, men and women received that same word on their pagers or phone. Carefully calculated acts of sabotage were followed by turning on their fellow officers.

One man was supposed to enter Director Piggot's office and kill everyone there; Lisa and Miss Militia foiled that aspect of the plan. His backup tried to carry out the plan with grenades; fortunately, that didn't work either.

The loyal PRT troops, where they were not massacred immediately, found their radios jammed, their friends turning on them, and their options vanishing.

And then grenades started going off. Flash-bangs where there was the chance of friendly casualties, frag grenades where the enemy was behind a barricade. Men started falling, others died. The loyal PRT troops rallied, fought back. Took back their tower. And all the while, they were supported by a loyal, if invisible, ally that placed loaded weapons at their feet and live grenades at their enemies'.

* * *

**Universe 2:**

* * *

Thomas Calvert still didn't know anything was amiss. He certainly didn't know that teams of PRT men were being teleported into his base, and his own mercenaries were being disarmed and taken into custody.

He turned into his street.

* * *

**Universe 1:**

* * *

Lisa sat at the workstation of the original traitor. She typed away rapidly, inputting commands faster than Taylor could follow. Not that she was following what Lisa was doing. She had her hand in Danny's, and she was watching Coil.

Director Piggot looked dubiously at where Lisa worked at the computer. "Not sure I like the idea of her in our system," she muttered.

"She saved all our lives," Miss Militia countered.

"She saved _her_ life," retorted Piggot.

"She's the best chance we've got of fixing whatever they did to the system."

At that moment, the screen cleared, and Lisa pushed back from the workstation. "That should do it."

Miss Militia raised her radio. "All surviving units, this is Miss Militia. Report by section."

The radio crackled, and voices started reporting in. They sounded weary, scared, confused, shocked. But they reported.

* * *

When the last voice fell silent, Miss Militia and Director Piggot shared a glance. "That's bad," said Miss Militia. "That's really bad."

Piggot nodded. "It is. Coil's just hit us really hard. Now we hit him back."

Taylor paused. "Coil and his men seem to be ready for a teleporter attack. He has them bunched up, aiming their guns in all directions."

Piggot frowned. "I really want to interrogate Calvert. Find out how long this has been going on, how deep his tentacles go."

"I can help with some of that," said Lisa. "Deep. Very deep."

Taylor had Danny drop a flash-bang in the middle of the men clustered around Coil; one of them kicked it, and it went over the edge of the catwalk, and detonated somewhere below.

"They're prepared for that, too," she said.

Danny said, "Smoke grenades to use as cover."

"Could work," said Taylor.

* * *

**Universe 2:**

* * *

Thomas Calvert pulled into his driveway and parked his car.

He got out, unlocked his front door, and walked inside.

From there, he performed a normal routine, almost as if he expected to be under surveillance.

Taylor kept watching him. Compass Rose and Pathfinder teleported groups of PRT men around Coil's base, picking Coil's minions off before they could raise the alarm.

* * *

**Universe 1:**

* * *

"Move toward the exit," said Coil. "Full teleport protocol."

The men moved in unison, scanning the surroundings, guns up, ready. They'd trained for scenarios like this.

It didn't mean that they'd _win_, of course, but they had a better chance than someone who wasn't prepared.

When the smoke grenades clattered to the catwalk on either side of them, they fired into the smoke. They weren't prepared for tear gas grenades to fall from the air above them, already trailing noxious fumes.

Within moments, they were all helpless. PRT men teleported into place around them, wearing gas masks. Coil was taken into custody along with his men.

A puff of purple-brown smoke later, and Coil stood before Director Piggot. She stepped forward, pulled at his mask. It was of a piece with his costume; it didn't come off.

And then suddenly, in a puff of smoke, the entire costume was gone; Pathfinder held it, limp, in his hands. Thomas Calvert, in his underwear, stood before Piggot.

Piggot looked up at Calvert. "I _trusted_ you," she hissed. She nodded to the guards. "Take him away. This one goes to the Birdcage. He knows too much about the PRT."

* * *

**Universe 2:**

* * *

Coil swore to himself, and shut down that universe. His cover blown, his base compromised. _I'm really going to have to do sometihng about Compass Rose and Pathfinder. And Tattletale._

He picked up his phone, and called his base.

No-one answered.

He frowned. _**Someone **__should be on duty._

He called again.

He was just starting to realise that something was very wrong when the PRT kicked in his front door.

* * *

It really was a very quiet war.

* * *

Director Piggot's face bore an expression akin to that of the cat which, having ingested a whole aviary full of canaries, has discovered a lake of cream all for itself.

She positively _beamed_ at Lisa, Taylor and Danny. Miss Miltia stood off to the side, at parade rest.

"Coil is in custody," she said. "He will be interrogated, thoroughly, and then sent to the Birdcage. He knows too much about the PRT to be allowed to stay loose and alive."

She allowed an expression of distaste to cross her face. "He may not have been my friend," she said, "but I never expected _that_ of him."

Danny nodded sympathetically. "Believe me, we know what it's like to find out that our friends are less than friendly." He took Taylor in his arms; she hugged him back.

Director Piggot nodded. "I see your point." Her face assumed the previous beatific expression. "Thanks to you three, we have managed to take an entire criminal organisation, and its very elusive boss, out of circulation with hardly anyone the wiser."

Lisa looked at her. "And he won't be let free?"

Piggot shook her head. "No chance."

Lisa nodded sharply. _"Good."_

"Well," said Director Piggot, "you still have the offer for a provisional place in the Wards."

Lisa smiled. "You know," she said. "I think I'll take it."

Taylor held up her hand; Lisa gave her a high-five.

"Louie," said Danny, affecting a rougher accent, "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

Taylor looked at him, puzzled. Lisa smirked. Director Piggot burst out laughing.

* * *

_[Author's Note: This ends the 'introduction' of Pathfinder and Compass Rose to the Protectorate. Further stories will be set later on, once they've had a chance to settle in__.]_

_[And just an epilogue ...]_

* * *

Amy giggled as the credits rolled.

"That was a very silly movie," she said.

"It was," agreed Victoria. "But I enjoyed it."

Amy nodded. "So did I." She took Vicky's and and squeezed it. "Thanks for coming out today with me. You really made my day. My _week."_

Vicky squeezed back. "I had a really good time too," she admitted. "The Boardwalk was a lot of fun. And dinner was a blast. Seriously, where did you learn all those dirty jokes? I laughed so hard thought I was going to wet myself."

Amy giggled again. "You should listen in on doctors when they think they're alone," she confided. "They have the _roughest_ sense of humour."

* * *

They walked out of the cinema, chatting happily together. Hand in hand; it was natural to Victoria by now. Her sister's hand in hers, together, warm, caring.

She had never felt so close to Amy in a very long time.

She paused near a shaded corner, out of the main street, and drew Amy into it.

"I had a really, really, really nice time tonight, Ames," she said softly. "And you were good, and never made even one pass at me."

Amy smiled up at her. "To be honest, Vicky," she said, "I was having so much fun I didn't even think about it."

Vicky nodded. "And nor did I. Until just now. So yes, this has been a date. And I enjoyed it very much."

Amy looked up at her. "So ...?"

Vicky smiled. "So you get your kiss."

She scooped Amy into her arms and they lifted into the air; higher and higher they flew, until all of Brockton Bay was spread out beneath them. Vicky flew northwest, landing on the lookout on top of Captain's Hill. She let Amy down to her feet, then stood there, looking at her.

"I'm here" she said softly. "We're in the most romantic spot in Brockton Bay. We're alone." She smiled. "You can kiss me just as hard as you want. You've earned it."

Amy leaned close to Vicky, who put an arm around her. Brockton Bay sparkled beneath them. Moonlight made a silvery path to the horizon. Vicky had brought her _here_ for the kiss. She felt a great surge of love and affection for her sister.

She put her arms around Vicky's neck and drew her face down to hers. Closing her eyes, she pressed her lips to Vicky's.

* * *

Vicky let her sister draw her down into the kiss. This meant so much to Amy; she was willing to give her sister a great deal, to make her happy. A kiss? Not so much in the grand scheme of things. Even a little tongue? Sure, she could pretend Amy was Dean, just for this kiss.

Their lips met.

* * *

By the time they separated from the kiss, they were both breathing hard.

"Oh my god," whispered Amy.

"Oh my god is right," panted Victoria.

"I have no idea what's happening," said Amy, but I think I like it."

"Oh, I know what's happening," Vicky assured her. "And I had no idea that you could kiss _that_ good."

"So ... you're attracted to me then?" asked Amy.

"I ... guess," said Victoria. "And I have no idea how to handle that." She shrugged. "I mean, I guess, we could just jump into bed and get it over with."

Amy was incredibly temped, but shook her head. "No," she said softly.

Vicky stared at her. "No?" she asked.

"No," reiterated Amy. "We'll take this one step at a time. One date at a time. Otherwise, it could get really, really weird between us. So no sex. Not to start with. Let's just get used to the idea first, okay?"

"Okay," said Vicky meekly. Amy hugged her.

They kissed again. It was just as good as the first time.

* * *

For the longest time, they stood, arms tightly about each other, looking out over the sleeping city.

"So ... another date next Saturday?" asked Vicky at last. "Or is that too soon?"

Amy smiled and snuggled into her sister's embrace. "No," she said. "It's not too soon."

* * *

End of Part 14


	15. Chapter 15

**Finding the Way**

* * *

Part 15: Couples

* * *

"So," said Danny as Taylor walked in the door. "How are things with the Wards?"

She gave him a hug. "Good," she said. "Really good. I helped Gallant out with something, actually."

* * *

Amy Dallon sat on her bed; she looked up as Victoria Dallon walked past the door. "Oh, Vicky," she said. "Can you come in here a moment?"

Vicky smiled and stepped inside the room, closing the door behind her. "Yes, Amy?" she said. Amy stood up, took two steps, and they went into each others' arms.

The first kiss was light, gentle, testing the waters. And then Amy's lips pressed hard on Vicky's. The kiss lasted an eternity; it lasted no time at all.

Amy slid her hand up under Vicky's top, undid her bra. Vicky did the same for Amy, then slowly peeled her sister's t-shirt and bra off over her head. Amy unbuttoned Vicky's blouse, then pushed it back off her arms, before removing her bra in a similar fashion.

Vicky lay back on the bed, with Amy on top of her. She gasped as Amy's mouth did magical things.

* * *

"I don't get it," said Dean. "Since we argued, she's been more and more distant with me. Is she breaking up with me again?"

Taylor checked to see where Vicky was, then suppressed a smirk. "You might want to call her up for a date tonight," she said.

He frowned. "What? It's Wednesday. We don't go out on a Wednesday. It's a school night."

She chuckled; he could not read anything from her emotions except a vast amusement. "You might be pleasantly surprised." She paused. "I'd call her soon, though, if I were you."

He gave her a long, considering look, then pulled out his cell phone.

* * *

They both heard Carol Dallon's footsteps coming upstairs; by the time she paused at Amy's door and knocked, the girls both had their tops on, although their bras were out of sight under the bed.

"Come in," said Amy cheerfully; she and Vicky were sitting side by side on the bed, with an old scrapbook on their laps, the blonde and frizzy brown heads close together.

"Ah, there you are, Victoria," said Carol. She spared barely a glance for Amy.

"Yes, Mom?" asked Vicky innocently.

"We were going out on patrol for the evening. Will you be joining us?" From the tone of voice, it was obvious that Carol considered the question a mere formality.

At that moment, Vicky's mobile rang.

"'Scuse me," she said. "I'll just get this."

Hitting the answer button, she said, "Uh, hello?"

_"Hi, Vicky, it's Dean."_

"Oh, hi, Dean," she said. "What's up?"

_"I, uh, was just wondering if we could go out for a bite tonight. If that's okay with you."_

She smiled. Amy might not be ready for sex with her yet, but Dean certainly was.

"Thanks, Dean, I'd totally forgotten. I'll be over at seven?"

There was a pause. _"Uh, seven it is,"_ said Dean. _"See you then."_

Vicky hung up the call, and looked at her mother with the best approximation of an apologetic smile that she could muster. "Sorry, Mom. Dean already made a date with me. He was just calling to remind me. Isn't he a sweetie?"

"Yes," grated Carol Dallon. "A real honey." She took a deep breath. "I'll let your father know. And Victoria …"

"Yes, mom?"

"Do put a brassiere on before you go outside. We try to maintain standards in this household, after all."

Vicky blushed deeply. "Yes, mom."

Carol looked unfavourably at Amy, whose t-shirt showed her lack of underwear even more prominently than Vicky's blouse did. "And _you _could do to follow that example as well."

Turning, she swept from the room, without even waiting for an answer from Amy. The door closed behind her.

"Whew," giggled Amy, closing the scrapbook and putting it to one side. "That was close."

Vicky grinned, and pulled Amy's shirt up again. "Now, where were we?"

"Right about there, I think," said Amy, and lay back again. "So, a date with Dean, huh?" she said.

Vicky raised her head long enough to say, "Yeah. You still won't go all the way, and you keep getting me all excited, so I have to do _something_ to get rid of my tension."

Amy gasped as she resumed. _Soon,_ she thought. _Soon._

* * *

Dean hung up from the call and looked quizzically at Taylor. "You were right. How did you know?"

Taylor grinned. "Just a wild guess."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "This isn't some power of yours that you haven't shared, is it?"

Taylor shook her head. "Just making sense of what I see, is all."

Her emotions betrayed no deception, just that vast amusement. He grinned and shook his head. "Okay, fine. Whatever."

She gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Don't be late, now."

He watched her moving off, rubbing his cheek absently.

* * *

"So how are things going with the rest of them?" he asked.

"Well, they like me well enough …"

* * *

Chris looked up from the table and waved. "Hey, Taylor, good to see you!"

Taylor grinned as she hurried over. She liked Chris; he was always polite, and accepted her at face value. And that was something she liked.

_If what happened to me hadn't happened, and someone like Chris asked me out … I might have even said yes,_ she thought wistfully_. Had a normal life. Normal worries. He's nice boy. Even if I can't understand what he's talking about half the time._

Chris was sitting around the table with Lisa, Missy and Dennis. Taylor slid in beside Chris and put her helmet on the table. "So, what's going on?" she asked with a wide grin.

Chris pointed at Lisa. "She's telling us stuff about you that I don't know if she's pulling our legs or not."

Lisa gave Taylor her vulpine smirk. She had been going by the name of Insight since she had joined the Wards, and if Taylor was to believe half the stories, she was enjoying herself immensely, usually at someone else's expense. But she was also proving to be an enormously valuable asset to the team.

Taylor gave her a flat look. "You know you shouldn't be telling those stories without authorisation."

Lisa grinned wider. "Hey, these are _Wards_. They're trustworthy. Says so on the box. And I gotta tell _someone_. If only to see their faces when you confirm."

"Okay, seriously," said Chris. "Coil? His whole organisation?"

Taylor sighed and nodded. "He had Lisa under threat. So we removed the threat, removed a problem from Brockton Bay, and gained a valuable new recruit. Win-win-win."

"Okay, fine, I can accept that," said Chris. "Dennis, didn't you have a question?"

Dennis jolted back to reality. "I heard a rumour that the Nine being taken down, and Jack Slash being taken out, was you and Pathfinder."

Taylor grinned at him and nodded. "It's sort of classified, but yeah. We were in the Director's office, and she sort of asked us where they were. As a test, I guess. So I told her. They ordered a tactical strike that evening, and a little while later, Pathfinder and I took some soldiers in and rescued some hostages from Jack Slash."

"Wow," said Missy. "And, uh, the Merchants? Was that you too?"

Taylor sighed. "Someone has been _definitely_ talking when they shouldn't."

"Hey," said Lisa. "No-one told me it was classified."

"No-one said it was okay to talk about it, either," Taylor said firmly. "You're the intuitionist. You're the last one who can claim 'no-one told me'."

Lisa grinned, unrepentant. Dennis said, "Well, is it true?"

Taylor sighed again. "Yes, it's true. I started tracking a lot of lost runaways, mainly teenage girls, to the Merchants. They'd been taking them in, then drugging them up and forcing them to service their members."

"By 'service' you mean …" began Chris, looking sick.

"Yes," said Taylor firmly. "Exactly that. So I told the Director, she ordered a strike. The capes were in cells before they even knew what hit them. The Merchants have been dismantled, and they're all facing multiple charges. Kidnap, unlawful imprisonment, and others."

"Others?" asked Missy.

"The type of charges that I'm not going to talk about," said Taylor firmly.

"I'm a big girl," protested Missy. "I can take it." But she looked a little green around the gills.

Taylor shook her head. _"I'm_ a big girl, and I couldn't take it for too long." She'd seen the conditions the girls were kept in, and it was all she could do to keep herself from having Danny take her to where Skidmark was being kept, pulling her little pistol, and …

Chris put an arm around her shoulders. "Bad, huh?" he said quietly.

She leaned into him. "The worst," she replied.

Danny had held her and comforted her, that night, as she cried on his shoulder. But memories like that could not be so easily exorcised. Comfort was something she took where she could find.

"It's the nature of the beast," he said gently, squeezing her shoulders. "We're superheroes. We have to deal with crap like this. People do bad things to each other, we're the ones who have to sort it out. We don't get called in for the _good_ stuff."

"Yeah," said Dennis. "Just for once, I'd like to get called in to judge a talent show, or a wet t-shirt contest or something."

There was silence for a moment, then Dennis said, "Yeah, I said that out loud, didn't I?"

Chris nodded. "In front of three girls. _Good_ going, champ."

There was an awkward silence, broken by Missy trying hard, and failing, not to giggle. Dennis' face just got redder and redder.

Then Taylor snickered. Everyone looked at her questioningly.

"I was just thinking," she said, "if there _was_ a cape wet t-shirt competition, who would enter, who would win, and who the hell would dare try to judge it?"

"You have a distinct point there," grinned Chris. He started chuckling, followed by Lisa and Missy. Even Dennis snickered a few times.

"Wait, wait," said Missy. "If we were having a wet t-shirt competion and Leviathan attacked, would he stop to watch?"

Chris laughed out loud. "They could hire him on to keep the contestants wet down."

More laughter arose at the table. Lisa managed to choke out, "they could ask him to _judge!"_ before cracking up altogether.

Taylor couldn't help laughing along with everyone else. "Hey," she grinned. "Maybe we should have one for the guys. Show off those abs. And no matter who won, no matter what happened to the judge afterward, they could get a great calendar out of it."

Silence fell then, as people considered a wet t-shirt calendar composed of capes.

"Dang," said Chris at last. "I'd buy one."

Missy nodded. "I'd wait for the 'hot guys' edition."

Lisa grinned and ruffled her hair. "Go you halves in it."

Missy grinned at her. "Get your own damn calendar." Everyone chuckled.

Lisa grabbed Missy and hugged her. "Don't ever change," she said with a grin.

"So, Taylor," said Chris, almost totally casually, "does your dad let you date?"

"Yeah," she said. "He pretty well gives me free rein. I just … don't, I guess. I prefer to stay in, most nights."

"Wow," said Missy. "That sounds kinda boring. No offence."

Taylor shrugged. "I didn't _have_ a social life before I got my powers. And afterward … I've been sort of busy. Really busy. As _someone_ has been telling you about, when they shouldn't have been." She directed a mock glare at Lisa, who grinned back at her.

"But if someone happened to ask you for a date, and your dad didn't have a problem, you'd be free to say yes, right?" asked Chris, once again almost managing to sound just mildly curious.

"Uh, sure?" said Taylor. _He's gonna ask me for a date. I know he is_. She wasn't sure how she really felt about that, but the tiny thrill of delight in her stomach said that some part of her wanted him to.

"Taylor, would you go on a date with me?" asked Chris, in a rush.

Taylor smiled at him. "Why yes," she said softly, "I _would_ like to go on a date with you."

He stared at her. "You would?"

She nodded, and kissed him on the cheek. "Of course I will."

* * *

"Chris is a nice kid," said Danny approvingly. "I like him."

She smiled. "So, you've heard about me and the Wards. You still haven't told me about you and Hannah."

He groaned. "You're not going to let me get away without telling you, are you?"

She giggled. "Nope."

"Well, fine," he said. "You know she asked me to meet her on the Boardwalk …"

* * *

"Hello, Danny," said Miss Militia. "It's good to see you."

He sat down next to her, looking out over the ocean. They were both out of costume, and he supposed he looked a little ridiculous next to her trim figure. Panacea may have given him a total body tune-up, but he was still over six feet, rather taller than the woman next to him.

"It's good to see you too, Hannah," he said. "Is there a problem I need to know about? Something we need to bring Compass Rose in on?"

She shook her head. "No," she said softly. She placed her hand on his hand, where it lay on his leg. He looked at her, startled.

* * *

"Hah!" said Taylor. "Called it!"

"Shush," he said, needled. "Who's telling this story?"

* * *

"Okay, okay," she said with a teasing grin. "Go on."

"Uh … Hannah," he said. "I … I, uh, find you extremely attractive. I really do. But … you do know I'm not ready for a committed relationship just yet."

She looked at him directly. "I know," she said. "And I know that you love your daughter dearly, and that she loves you just as much. And I would not have dreamed of intruding on that. But …"

She paused. "But … you saved my life, when we took down the Merchants. And I know you have been looking at me in a way more than a teammate should look at another." She squeezed his hand.

"But … but what is there about me that attracts you so much?" he asked helplessly.

She reached up and placed her hand over his heart. "What's in here," she said softly.

He shook his head. "I don't get it," he said.

She smiled sadly. "When I was young, I lost my parents. Men came to the village and killed nearly everyone, all but a few children. I have always missed my father and mother, but mostly my father, because I have always found myself in violent, dangerous situations."

She paused, and looked steadily at him. "You are a father who found himself in an untenable situation, but did what you had to do to get to your daughter and save her. You did the difficult thing, the impossible thing, to keep Taylor safe and alive."

She smiled up at him. "You are that rare thing, a good man and a loving father. I admire that intensely, and find it very attractive indeed."

"Wait …" he said. "You want to sleep with me _because_ I love Taylor so much?"

She smiled, her lids lowered. "I do not claim to understand it," she said softly. "All I know is what my body tells me."

He shook his head wonderingly. "Before we reach any sort of agreement here," he said, "I'm gonna have to talk this over with her. You do realise this."

* * *

Taylor grinned. "Sure," she said. "I'm good with that."

"Just like that?" asked Danny. "You don't mind?"

Taylor kissed him on the cheek. "I really like her," she said. "She's great, she doesn't talk down to me. Treats me like an adult."

He nodded. "I have to admit, that's one of the reasons I like her, too."

She smiled and hugged him. His arms tightened around her.

* * *

Hannah nodded seriously. "I understand," she said. "And please tell her that I will meet any conditions she sets for us. I admire her deeply, and –"

* * *

"Ooh, conditions," grinned Taylor. "And she admires me deeply. Seriously, did she say that, or are you just trying to butter me up?"

"Shush," he said severely. She giggled.

* * *

"- only want good for her."

Danny nodded. "I'll do that," he said. He smiled at her. "I think she'll accept," he said. "She does like you a lot."

Hannah smiled back at him. "I know. You have a remarkable daughter."

They both stood. She turned to him. "One more thing before you go?"

He looked at her. She stretched up on tiptoe and kissed him firmly on the lips. "Don't forget to talk to Taylor," she said, after she had finished.

He smiled sheepishly. "No way in hell," he grinned. He shook hands with her, and she started away down the Boardwalk. He went the other way, until he could duck into an unobserved nook, and teleport back home.

_Now,_ he asked himself. _How the hell do I broach _**_that _**_subject with Taylor? She already knows, I bet, but …_

* * *

Of course, as it happened, he didn't have to worry about it.

* * *

"Wow," said Dean. "That was … wow."

Vicky kissed him, running her hands over him. "You're pretty special yourself," she said with a smile.

He rolled off her; she snuggled up to him, kissing her way down his chest. _Not as nice as Amy's chest, but not bad either._

"You're really turned on tonight," he said, running his hand over her flank. "Anything I should know for future reference?"

She giggled and kissed him again. "Special circumstances," she said, rubbing against him. "Wanna go again, or are you too tired out?"

_Wow_, she thought. _Playing around with Amy really fires me up._

He grinned and reached for her.

* * *

End of Part 15


	16. Chapter 16

**Finding the Way**

* * *

Part 16: Dinner and a Show

* * *

_[Author's Note: Sorry, but this post kept on expanding. So now it's two posts.]_

* * *

Danny Hebert stood in his bedroom, humming a jaunty tune. He tied his bowtie to perfection, then reached to take his jacket from the bed –

"Arrrrgh!"

The sound from the bathroom was accompanied by a feeling of intense frustration and despair. Strolling casually from the bedroom, he pulled on the jacket and set his cuffs just right before leaning in at the bathroom door.

"Is everything all right, kiddo?" he enquired cheerfully.

Taylor, clad in underwear and a slip, leaned over the bathroom sink, glaring at herself in the mirror as she scrubbed her face clean. The pinkness of her skin indicated that this was not the first time.

"Fuck fuck fuck, _arrrgh!"_ she snarled again.

"Not an answer, Taylor," he replied with some amusement.

"Tell me again why we're even doing this," she said, turning to him.

"Because we both need a little romance in our lives," he reminded her patiently. "We live together, but neither of us has outside connections. We need to go out with people we trust, who can surprise us with nice things." He took her chin in his hand. "What _we_ have will never change, but we need to see what the world will offer us."

She folded her arms. "Well, you're gonna have to tell Chris the date's off. I can't _do_ this shit."

"Do what?" he asked mildly.

She threw up her hands. _"Everything!_ I haven't got any really nice dresses, and I have _no fucking idea_ how to do makeup. I know what I _want_ to look like. What I _actually_ end up looking like is an epileptic clown." She sat down on the toilet lid, put her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. "I _suck_ at being a woman."

"You realise, you're still a teenager," he said mildly. "You have years to go yet until you have to really worry about that."

She sighed. "Fine. If that's how it's gonna be." She stood up, pushed past him on the way to her bedroom. "I'll be in my room."

He raised an eyebrow. "Get back here, kiddo. You give up too easily. Credit your old man with _some_ problem-solving skills."

She frowned, but made an about-face.

He led her into his bedroom, and opened the closets on her mother's side of the bed.

* * *

Opening the doors, he found a row of dresses on hangers. "Your mother wasn't much taller and only a little larger in the bust than you are, Taylor. But these should fit you reasonably well." Taking one one dress after another, he held them up against her body, until he found one in a delicate blue pattern; powder blue fading to navy.

"Try this one on," he suggested.

She did, wriggling into it. It fitted well enough.

"Nice," he said. "Now, there should be a pair of shoes to match that. Your mother never bought a dress without the matching shoes."

Taylor quickly found them; her feet fitted into them well enough.

"Stand up," he said. "Take a couple of steps."

The heels were only medium height, and she soon mastered the trick of walking in them.

"Now, you've got your hair done, right?" he asked.

She nodded. "A brush and a hairband should work there. But my makeup –"

He smiled. "Leave that to me."

She frowned. _"You_ can do makeup?"

He chuckled. "Oh, god no. I'd probably foul it up worse than you did. But I do know when to call on a friend."

"A friend?" she asked.

He nodded. "Where is Hannah at the moment?"

She put her hand on his, and he knew. A puff of purple-brown smoke, and he was gone.

* * *

Amy finished the final dabs of the lipstick just as Victoria entered her bedroom. "Hi, Vicky," she said happily. "Ready to go?"

Vicky nodded. "Or, you know," she said, "we could just stay right here and pretend we went out." She indicated the bed. "We could take all this off again and do what you've wanted to do with me like forever."

Amy giggled and kissed her sister on the lips. The kiss went from playful to serious to passionate. They held each other tightly, eyes closed, bodies moving against one another.

Finally, Amy broke the kiss, breathing hard. "No," she said, trying to catch her breath. "We'll go out, have another fun date. But you can kiss me any time you want." She took a deep breath. "Maybe tonight … tonight, after we get home. We might do it then." She smiled at Victoria. "I just want it to be perfect."

Vicky held Amy close, cheek to cheek. "It already is perfect with you, Ames," she said softly.

Amy snuggled into her embrace.

* * *

Hannah hummed to herself as she put the brush through her gleaming black hair. She was looking forward to this date. Danny was nice and kind and sweet, and he did so love his daughter.

There was a puff of purple-brown smoke behind her, and she turned with a .50 caliber Desert Eagle in her hand before she registered that it was Danny.

"I thought you weren't picking me up until seven," she said, tucking the pocket pistol into a small thigh holster.

He nodded. "That was the plan. But I have a crisis and an upset teenager, who needs a woman's touch."

Hannah's lips quirked upward. "That sounds interesting. How can I help?"

He smiled at her. "Your expertise with makeup is needed."

She held out her hand. "Let us go, then."

He took it, smoke billowed around them, and they vanished.

* * *

Taylor didn't even look up as they appeared in the bathroom next to her.

Danny nodded at Hannah. "I'll leave you to it." He strolled from the bathroom, leaving them alone.

Hannah took Taylor's hand, bringing her to a standing position. "Let's see now. Hold still." She examined the makeup kit open on the washbasin stand. "Your mother's?"

Taylor nodded. "She could make herself so beautiful with it. _I_ make myself look like an angry raccoon."

Hannah chuckled. "Well, all the basics seem to be there." She took foundation, dabbed it on. Then she added eyeshadow, lipstick and just a touch of blush, her hands moving swiftly and surely.

"There," she said, in far less time than Taylor expected. "See for yourself."

Taylor looked in the mirror, and gasped.

She was transformed; her eyes were larger, her cheekbones higher, her lips fuller. And the makeup wasn't even visible as makeup.

"Oh my god," she said. "Dad … come here and tell me what you see, please."

He stepped in through the door and nodded approvingly. "Nice," he said. "Very, very nice."

Taylor hugged Hannah. "Thank you," she said. "I was totally lost there. All I know how to put on is lip gloss."

Hannah smiled. "I can show you how, later," she offered.

Taylor nodded. "Yes, please," she said. "That would be so great."

Hannah tied back her hair and helped Taylor put a hairband in hers, then turned to Danny. "We're ready to go," she said with a smile.

Danny pulled back his sleeve and checked his watch. "And still five minutes to go," he said. "We're doing well." He looked to Taylor. "Where's Chris?"

Taylor blinked once. "Ready and waiting. Wow. He looks really nice."

Danny nodded. "And so he should." He took her hand with his left, and Hannah's with his right. "Ready?"

Hannah nodded; Taylor didn't even have to do that. Smoke billowed, and they were gone.

* * *

Chris jumped as the three of them appeared before him in a cloud of smoke. "Jesus!" he exclaimed.

"No," Danny corrected him with a grin. "Just us. Ready to go?"

Chris nodded jerkily, and took Taylor's proffered hand. "You look –" he managed, before smoke billowed again.

" – really nice," he finished, as they appeared on the Boardwalk, between two buildings.

"Thank you," she said with a smile. "So do you." She took his arm and nodded to Danny. "Thanks for the lift. We'll see you."

Danny grinned. "Anytime. Just let me know."

Turning in opposite directions, the two couples strolled away along the Boardwalk.

* * *

"So where to first?" asked Victoria as she carried her sister aloft.

"I was thinking a meal down on the Boardwalk," said Amy thoughtfully. "That new café that's just opened. It's really popular. And I hear they do a great fettucine."

"Boardwalk it is," Vicky grinned. "Hang on to your tonsils." And she dived.

Amy's delighted shriek of mock terror followed them down.

* * *

Danny, with Hannah on his arm, strolled casually along until they reached a restaurant just off the main drag; it was not flashy or glitzy, but seemed to get by on understated elegance.

She looked up at the tall man at her side. Perhaps at one time he had been skinny and gawky, but since Panacea's treatment, he was lean and tough, and moved with a certain assurance. He also cleaned up remarkably well; his attire might be just a little old-fashioned, but he wore it with panache.

Danny looked down at Hannah. She had a trim, fit body, strong without being muscle-bound. The dress she wore clung to her like a second skin, and he found himself appreciating the view down her cleavage.

Their gazes met, and they smiled. Each knew more or less what the other had been thinking, and did not mind at all.

"I'm glad you talked me into this," he said. "It's been too long since I was on a date."

She smiled up at him. "It's been too long since I had someone I wanted to go on a date with," she replied.

The maitre'd took their names and found their booking, and a waiter escorted them to their table. Danny helped Hannah out of her jacket and then seated her, drawing a pleased smile from her. _Old-fashioned indeed,_she thought. _I _**_like _**_it._

He sat opposite, and just looked at her as the waiter placed menus on the table. She caught his gaze and flushed dark. "What?" she asked.

"We're not going to have the chance to do this often," he said, putting his large hand palm-up on the table between them. She placed her hand delicately in his. "I want to remember every moment.". His fingers closed over hers, warm and strong.

She nodded. Miss Militia was too prominent, too _needed_, to go out on dates every other day. Compass Rose and Pathfinder were likewise usually so busy that an evening off such as this was unthinkable. However, their teamwork in taking down first Coil and then the Merchants had made them very much the flavour of the month, and Director Piggot had seen her way clear to approving the time off.

The waiter brought the wine list, and Hannah selected a bottle. They made their orders, and the waiters bore the menus away in triumph. He lifted her hand from the table. She looked at him questioningly. He nodded toward the small dance floor nearby, where a slow waltz was playing.

"Shall we?" he asked.

She smiled, and rose with him.

* * *

"Your dad is really amazingly cool about this," commented Chris as they walked along. "Most fathers would be all intimidating and 'touch my daughter and die' and stuff."

Taylor sighed. "Chris," she said, "Yes, he's amazing. He's my _dad_. But we're not here to talk about him. We're here to talk about you and me.".

She squeezed his arm tighter, moved in closer to him. He gulped.

"So tell me," she said softly, "something about you that I didn't know before."

"Um … well … I suck at math," he blurted.

She looked around at him quizzically. "What, really?" she asked with a grin. "But you're a –"

He nodded. "A Tinker, yeah," he agreed. "But what I build, I build by eye. I don't have to work out the maths for it; I just build what looks good."

"Cool," she said. "I definitely didn't know that about you."

"Okay," he said, "now you tell me something I didn't know about you."

"Umm," she said. "Have you read my file?"

He shook his head. "Nope. I just know that you can find things, and Pathfinder can teleport."

She took a deep breath. "I nearly committed suicide before I got my powers."

He stopped, shocked. Stared at her. "Christ. I didn't know."

She let go his arm, moved into a hug. He held her awkwardly.

"It's not something that many people know," she said softly into his ear. "I was bullied, terribly, for more than two years. Shadow Stalker was one of the bullies. You know that bit."

He nodded. "Yeah, I know." He didn't sound happy.

"I ... the beginning of Christmas break, they took something I valued highly. A flute belonging to my mother. I was heartbroken. I was _broken_. That night ... I was going to do it. End it all. But Dad spotted it, pulled me through."

"And then you got your powers?" he asked.

She nodded. "And then I got my powers. And Dad got his. And it's all good now."

"Wow," he said. "That's big. That's really big."

She nodded. "You asked."

He chuckled. "You have a point." He squeezed her one last time – it was _nice_, hugging her – and released her. She took his arm once more. They continued on.

* * *

Their destination was an upmarket cafe, trendy and hip. Definitely aimed at the teenage crowd. Chris noted with some satisfaction that very few of the girls there even began to measure up to the standard that Taylor set.

One exception was a girl he knew. "Hey," he said. "Isn't that Vicky Dallon? Glory Girl?"

Taylor looked. It was Vicky, all right, in the middle of an animated conversation with her sister. They were eating some sort of fettucine that looked delicious.

Then she looked farther, and stiffened slightly. "Great," she muttered.

"What?" asked Chris. "What's the matter?"

She indicated with her head. "See that table down the back? The redhead and the cute brunette and the others with them?"

Chris nodded. He'd already spotted them; the redhead was the only one who rivalled Taylor for looks and poise. "Yeah," he said. "What about them?"

"They're the other two," she said flatly. She didn't have to elaborate.

"Shit," he said. "Do you want to go?"

She shook her head. "I'm not letting Emma _fucking_ Barnes make me take one more step back, ever," she growled. Head high, moving with purpose, she walked into the cafe on his arm.

* * *

"Amy!" said Taylor, when they got close enough. "Vicky!"

The sisters looked around, and both smiled. "Taylor!" said Amy, half a second ahead of her sister. "And ... Chris, isn't it?"

Chris smiled. "The same," he said. He looked at Vicky. "Haven't seen you around much, recently," he commented.

Vicky smiled. "I've been busy," she said. "How about you? Any new projects?"

He nodded as he sat down; Taylor noted with amusement that it was altogether too easy to deflect a Tinker from any topic. All you had to ask him what he was working on, and he was all too happy to give you chapter and verse. "Yeah," he said. "I've got this idea for something I call an Alternator Cannon. It's got some interesting possibilities."

Amy was looking at the pair of them. "Wait a minute," she said. "Are you two ... on a ... _date?"_

Taylor grinned at her and nodded, putting her handbag on the seat beside her. She reached across and took Chris' hand to illustrate.

Amy looked a little surprised. "Your father knows about this, right?"

Taylor giggled. "Sure," she said. _"He's_ on a date with Miss Militia."

Amy's look of bemusement increased. "And _you_ have no problem ...?"

Taylor shook her head. "I like her. I think she'll be good for him."

"Wow," said Chris. "Girl code. You two just had an entire conversation inside that conversation, didn't you?"

Taylor started giggling. "Something like that," she said fondly. She took both of his hands in hers. "So," she invited. "Tell me about this Alternator Cannon."

* * *

Danny was a little rusty at dancing, but it came back to him. Hannah was an excellent partner; she followed his movements exactly, and made him feel like the best dancer in the world. She pressed close to him, her head against his chest, as they moved smoothly around the dance floor.

The music was soft, the beat was slow, and he had a beautiful woman in his arms. Danny danced, and enjoyed every moment.

* * *

Hannah had not danced for some time, but she never forgot anything. The moves were there for her to use as soon as she stepped on to the floor. It wasn't hard to subtly guide Danny until he got back into the rhythm of it, and he was a surprisingly good dancer. She snuggled close, and put her head against his chest.

The music was soft, the beat was slow, and she had a strong and gentle man holding her in his arms. Hannah danced, and enjoyed every moment.

* * *

Halfway through the meal, Chris was still talking. Taylor was getting about one word in three, but she understood it to be a fairly advanced weapon, one with multiple applications. Usually with the word 'damage' appended, or at least heavily implied.

He was just trying to explain, with gestures, how the anti-gravity turret was supposed to work when a new voice cut across the conversation.

"Taylor? Taylor _Hebert?_ Is that _you?"_

Chris stopped talking and turned toward the speaker. Taylor did also.

Emma Barnes stood there, with her coterie at her back. She was staring at Taylor, as if seeing her for the first time.

Taylor looked calmly at her. "Hello, Emma," she said in a level tone of voice. "Fancy meeting you here."

Emma looked at her face, her hair, her dress, and obviously could not find a thing to pick at there. Then she looked at Chris. "Christ, Hebert," she said. "Are you on a _date?_ How much did your father have to pay him to come out with you?"

Chris stood. "Miss Barnes," he said formally, _"I_ asked Taylor to come on this date with _me._ Now, I'm going to ask you to move along, so that we can enjoy it in peace."

Emma's eyes opened just a little wider as he addressed her by name, and then much wider as he gave her the request to leave. Madison whispered to her.

"You know she's had a nervous breakdown," she said spitefully. "Spent time in the wacky ward." She looked at Taylor. "I'm surprised your father could even afford to pay for something like that. Maybe he just wanted you out of his hair for a while."

"You should leave now," said Chris, very quietly, "or I _will_ call the management and have you thrown out."

"Fine, I'm going," said Emma, and moved past the table. Madison followed, but she dropped her handbag as she brushed past the table. She knelt quickly and retrieved it, then stood and went to follow Emma.

"Give it back," said Taylor clearly.

Emma stopped and turned. "Give what back?" she asked innocently.

"Madison just took my purse out of my handbag," said Taylor, not moving. "It's in her bag. Give it back, right now, and I don't call the police."

Chris noted the involuntary flinch from Madison. "Did you take her purse?" he asked.

"No, I didn't," retorted Madison. She stared as Chris moved forward and took a firm hold of the strap of her handbag. "Hey, let that go!"

"Not until you give Taylor her purse back," he said flatly.

"She's delusional!" she retorted. "I haven't got her purse!"

"Taylor," said Chris, without taking his eyes from Madison, "what does your purse look like?"

"Dark blue, with a white stripe across it," Taylor said, still not moving from her seat.

"Let go my bag!" shouted Madison. "He's trying to steal my bag!" Across the cafe, heads turned. Chris felt heat rising in his face. Madison gave him a look of triumph, and wrenched at her handbag strap. He didn't let go.

Two waiters approached. "Can we assist in some way?" the older one asked.

"Yes," said Chris immediately, his voice carrying as well as Madison's had. "This girl stole my date's purse. It's in this handbag, right here. I want her to give it back. Can you get the manager, now, please?"

* * *

When they got back to the table, the meals had been served and the chilled wine was ensconced in an ice bucket. Danny worked the cork out carefully and poured them both a reasonable measure of the sparkling beverage. It was dry and tart, and went wonderfully with the meal.

Over dinner, they spoke inconsequentially of many things. She was interested in his personal crusade to get the ferry service up and running again, and of his work with the Dockworkers' Association. He told her about Taylor, and about Annette, and how she had died. She squeezed his hand sympathetically, and he smiled gratefully.

She told him about her childhood, and how men had come to the village and killed her parents and all the other adults. How she had manifested her powers when in the extremity of peril. How she had been discovered as a parahuman, and brought to America. And how she loved America, for all its faults and flaws, because it was a nation that truly _tried_ to better itself.

Partway through the meal, he paused and frowned.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"Something's wrong ... Taylor's concerned and irritated ... but it's being dealt with," he said. "She'll let me know if I'm needed."

She raised an eyebrow. "The bond between you is that strong?" she asked.

He nodded. "Since we got our powers, yes. We were close before; now we're two parts of the same person, almost."

She nodded in turn. "I confess, I feel a little jealous of that. Your closeness, your togetherness. You and I, we do not have that." She smiled. "But I suppose we're just going to have to make do, like everyone else does."

He grinned back at her, and squeezed her hand.

* * *

Taylor felt her father's reassurance in the back of her mind as she watched the confrontation. It was good to know that he was there if she needed him.

But right now, it didn't seem that she did.

The manager had been summoned, and had listened to Chris' assertion that Madison had stolen her purse and that it was now inside Madison's handbag. However, Madison's loud denials, and her outright refusal to allow anyone to look into her handbag had stalled the process somewhat.

"My father's a lawyer," announced Emma firmly, "and he will sue this place down to the bedrock if you continue to hold my friend against her will like this."

The manager began to waver. Amy leaned across the table and spoke softly and vehemently to Vicky, who sighed and stood up.

"Excuse me," she said. "I'm Glory Girl, with New Wave. What seems to be the problem?"

The manager's look of relief was patently obvious. "We have a case of alleged theft," he said. "If you could get the police –"

Vicky raised an eyebrow. "I can go one better," she said. Grabbing the bag, she pulled it open, despite Madison's best efforts to hold it closed. "Oh, look," she said. "A blue purse with a white stripe across it. Whoever's could that be?"

"That's mine!" shouted Madison. "Leave my property alone!"

"Taylor," called Chris from where he still held the handbag strap. "Do you have any ID in your purse?"

"I do," called Taylor back. "My school identity card."

Madison tried to grab the purse, but Glory Girl got there first. She plucked it from the bag, opened it, and displayed the ID within to one and all. "School ID in the name of ... Taylor Hebert." She showed it to the manager. "Looks like it to you?"

He read the name. "Yes, Glory Girl, it does," he agreed.

"So you're satisfied that this is the property of that girl, there, rather than this girl, here?"

He nodded. "It certainly looks that way."

"Thank you," she said, and tossed the purse back to Taylor, who caught it neatly and tucked it back into her handbag. "Now," said Vicky to Madison. "Would you care to explain why you took her purse?"

"It was just a joke," said Madison sulkily. "I was going to give it back."

"Some joke," commented Victoria. "Seems like felony theft to me." She turned to Emma. "And you're an accessory, seeing that you tried to deflect blame from her."

"My father's a lawyer," said Emma again, more weakly.

"A divorce attorney," supplied Taylor from where she sat.

"Really?" responded Vicky, looking at Emma with raised eyebrows. "Your dad's Alan Barnes, right? My mom works in the same company. Carol Dallon? Brandish? Ring a bell? She's a _criminal_ lawyer, and if I ask her to, she _will_ take this case, and she _will_ rip you to shreds."

It obviously rang a very large bell; Emma wilted some more.

"Good," said Vicky, obviously enjoying herself immensely. "Now sit down, shut up and wait for the cops." She nodded to Chris. "Thank you for your assistance in this matter, citizen. My sister will take your details; the police will contact you in due course."

Chris nodded, released his grip on Madison's handbag, and went back to sit with Taylor. Taylor grinned at him and squeezed his hand. He grinned back.

"Thanks, Amy," she said quietly to the biokinetic.

Amy nodded and smiled. "That's fine. Vicky's loving this. She hasn't had the chance to yell at someone in a while."

* * *

Danny put his dessert spoon down and rubbed his stomach. "That was heavenly," he said.

Opposite him, Hannah did much the same. "Oh, yes," she agreed. They had each had another glass of the wine, after demolishing their meals to great effect. She took his hand. "Danny," she said softly, "I'm really, really enjoying tonight. Thank you for being here, with me."

He smiled and squeezed her hand. "Sometimes it's a good idea to reconnect, on a personal level," he said. "It's too easy to let our public identities become more important than our private identities."

He called for the check and paid the bill, then stood and assisted Hannah in putting her coat on once more. She smiled and leaned back into him as he did so.

They exited the restaurant, and started along the Boardwalk to where Danny knew Taylor was.

"What's happening?" she asked him.

"Not sure," he said. "It's under control, but she's both pleased and aggravated." He shrugged. "I guess we'll find out."

"I'm sure we will," she agreed. She took his hand as they strolled along. It was a pleasant evening; the full moon was just rising over the ocean, leaving a gleaming trail of silvery light to the horizon.

They stopped, leaning on the rail, to look at it. A chilly breeze swept over them and she shivered. He took her in his arms, wrapping his jacket around her.

She looked up at him. "Danny ..." she whispered.

"Hannah ..." he replied, equally quietly.

They kissed.

His lips molded to hers, pressing warmly, firmly, sensuously. They held each other close, blind to everything except the kiss.

Eventually, they broke the kiss. She looked up at him, somewhat dazed. He leaned against the railing. "Wow," he breathed. "Wow."

She nodded, put her head against his chest, and held him close. No more words needed be said.

* * *

In the cafe, Taylor grinned. _Wow, Dad just lit up like a Christmas tree. _

"What's so funny?" asked Chris.

Her grin widened. "Tell you later."

* * *

The police arrived while Taylor and Chris were still working on dessert. Taylor gave a brief statement, to the effect that she'd felt a tug on her handbag, had quickly checked, and seen it gone. She displayed the purse; the manager testified that it was the same one he'd seen Vicky take from Madison's bag.

Emma loudly and vociferously proclaimed her innocence in Madison's crime; however, several people spoke up, recalling her hurtful words to Taylor just before the purse went missing. Amy and Vicky were two of these.

* * *

After giving their details to the police, Taylor and Chris finally escaped. Outside, watching the drama with mild bemusement, were Danny and Hannah.

"It seems you can't go anywhere without getting into trouble," observed Danny with a grin. Taylor stuck her tongue out at him.

"So what happened in there?" asked Hannah. "All Danny knew was that there was a little drama, but not what it was."

So Taylor related the incident with Emma, and how Glory Girl had eased the path with her direct methods.

"You know, I could have just gotten it back for you," Danny pointed out.

Taylor grinned at him. "Yeah, but this is more satisfying."

Danny nodded judiciously. "I suppose it is." He grinned back. "So. Movies now?"

"Oh, yes please," said Taylor.

All four joined hands and vanished in a puff of purple-brown smoke.

* * *

They reappeared just around the corner from the movie theatre, in a dark area where few people would be observing. Casually, they walked around the corner and into the theatre.

Moments later, Victoria landed outside, with Amy in her arms.

Inside, the line was fairly long, so Taylor was idly checking on the whereabouts of her friends when she realised that Amy and Vicky were three spaces back from them.

"Oh hey," she said. She got the attention of everyone else in the group, and they all moved back three spaces, so that she could chat with the two New Wavers.

"So how did it go with the police?" she asked.

"Oh, they took them in to be charged," said Amy cheerfully. Vicky looked satisfied with herself.

Taylor nodded to her. "Thanks for that," she said.

Vicky smiled back. "Not a problem. Once Amy explained things to me, I couldn't _not_ help you." She grinned. "And it was seriously satisfying to deal with those bitches."

Taylor nodded. "So, what are you going to see?"

This devolved into a general discussion between all of them. Chris wanted to see the new Iron Man movie, Taylor wanted to see _Tangled_, Danny wanted to see _Grown Ups_ and Miss Militia wanted to see _The Expendables_. In the meantime, Vicky wanted to see _Clash of the Titans_, and Amy wanted to see _Flipped_.

And then, farther down the list, Danny spotted a digital remastering of _Casablanca_. So they all bought tickets for that.

* * *

Danny was a long-time aficionado of the classic movie; he watched it with complete enjoyment. Hannah had never seen it before, but she was fascinated. Chris and Taylor were a little dubious going in, and were slightly disappointed by the lack of big action scenes, but slowly became immersed in the story, noticing lines that had since appeared in other movies. Amy and Victoria enjoyed it immensely, although they spent a good deal of the movie snuggling and kissing rather than watching the screen.

As they exited the cinema, Taylor turned to her father. "So _that's_ where that line comes from, the one you used to Director Piggot," she said. "The 'this is the start of a beautiful friendship' one."

He nodded and grinned. "Now you see why I've been telling you all these years you should see it?" he asked.

She nodded. "It was a good movie. A really good movie," she agreed. "Chris?"

Chris nodded. "For a movie with Nazis in it, there wasn't much action, but it was a really good movie anyway," he agreed. "I'm gonna see if I can get the DVD so we can watch it on the big screen at the base."

Amy turned to Taylor. "Well, it was great seeing you again," she said. "Vicky and me are going to take off now. Have a good one."

Taylor nodded and hugged Amy and Vicky both. "You two take care now," she said. "And thanks again."

Amy smiled and kissed her on the cheek. "No thanks necessary. Really." And then Vicky gathered her into her arms, and they disappeared into the darkness overhead.

Danny looked around at the others. "Where would you like to go now?" he asked.

Taylor smiled.

* * *

There was a burst of purple-brown smoke in the middle of the Wards' common area, and Danny appeared, with Miss Militia, Taylor and Chris. A moment later, even before the smoke had had a chance to dissipate, the adults were gone once more.

Taylor looked at Chris, and he looked at her. She took his hand. They walked toward the corridor leading to the Wards' private quarters, down the corridor, to Chris' door. She looked at it, and at him.

"Well?" she said softly. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

He opened the door, and they entered.

* * *

Danny and Hannah materialised in the living room of his house. He shed his jacket; she shed her coat. They looked at one another. And then they were in each other's arms, kissing. She closed her eyes; there was not even a jolt, so she was mildly startled when she opened them again and they were standing in his bedroom.

He kissed her again and again, running his lips over her neck and shoulders. She arched her back and made a purring noise in her throat. Her fingers found the buttons to his shirt, and began undoing them. He began to ease the zipper down on her dress, sliding his hand inside and caressing the skin he found there. She breathed deeply through her nose, and kissed him again.

They were on the bed, just starting to get into matters, when both his communicator and hers went off, at the same moment. Emergency signal. Absolute priority.

* * *

Chris and Taylor sat side by side on his bed.

She leaned in and kissed him. He kissed her back.

They undressed each other, slowly and carefully, letting each moment linger. Taking their time.

And just as things were getting to the point of no return ...

... their communicators went off, at the same moment. Emergency signal. Absolute priority.

* * *

Danny and Taylor: _"Shit!"_

Hannah and Chris: _"NOOOOOO!"_

* * *

End of Part 16


	17. Chapter 17

**Finding the Way**

* * *

Part 17: Conclusions

* * *

Just a Little Previously

* * *

Grue billowed darkness in a wide arc, then ran along between two train carriages and peered around the corner of one.

Something round and metallic bounced toward him. He jerked back, jumped up, clung to the side of the carriage. The grenade boomed hollowly in his darkness, shrapnel pinging off the rails beneath him.

_Oni Lee,_ he thought. _He must be just throwing blind into the darkness._ He gritted his teeth. _But with grenades … he doesn't have to get all that close._

And then he heard the bellow. "Where the fuck are you? You're dead, you little shits! _Dead!"_ And then he heard the _whoosh_ of flame being played across an area.

_Fuck. Lung._

He got back to the others. Regent was hurt, a bullet wound in the hip, draped across one of Bitch's dogs. Bitch had taken a graze to the calf in the same engagement, but was toughing it out, riding astride the second dog. The third was hurt, a shattered leg. How it was keeping up with the other two, Brian had no idea.

_We can't run, we can't hide and we can't fight,_he thought desperately.

_I have to call for help._

* * *

Lisa lounged in her quarters in the Wards' area of the PRT base, casually toying with her Protectorate comm. She was loving this. Out of the Undersiders, out from under Coil's thumb. Coil had gone down, hard. She had truly enjoyed watching that bit.

She had enjoyed it even more when he had successfully escaped, only to find that his every move was matched by someone who could locate him, no matter what disguise he donned, no matter what precautions he took. Eventually, disgusted, Director Piggot had put a kill order on his head. One frag grenade in the right place had done the job.

Being a superhero was a new and interesting career for her. She wasn't a combat cape, so she got to stay back and propose strategies. It was fun being on the side where they didn't try to arrest you all the time. Of course, Director Piggot had implemented a no-contact rule with regards to the Undersiders, but Lisa had managed to sneak her old phone in anyway. They had her number; they could call if they needed her.

Her phone went off.

She answered it; _it's Brian_, she knew.

"Hi, Brian," she said cheerfully, and knew immediately that there was something very, very wrong.

* * *

"Lisa!" gasped Brian. He had opened up some of his darkness so that the signal would get through. "You've got to help us."

_"Christ, Brian, what – you've got the ABB on your ass. When – oh, shit. I left you and took down Coil. That's what this is about, isn't it?"_

"Yeah," said Brian. That was the good thing about Lisa; you never had to worry about explaining things to her. _She_ usually gave _you_ the details. "Regent's hurt; he needs medical care. Bitch is wounded too, but not as bad. I'm good. Can you get any Protectorate help to us, ASAP?"

_"I'll do what I can,"_ said Lisa grimly.

* * *

Up till now, Lisa had been idly studying her Protectorate issue comm. Now she pressed several buttons, in a sequence that she had certainly never been taught.

This opened a new mode in the comm, one that she was not authorised to use. However, since she had just entered Piggot's authority code, it decided that she was.

Rapidly, she typed in a message, then hit the SEND button.

Leaping off her bunk, she left her quarters at a dead sprint.

* * *

Now

* * *

Hannah rolled off the bed, swearing in her mother tongue. She went to grab her clothes. "Don't bother," said Danny. He took her hand and teleported them both to her quarters. Then he disappeared again. Seconds later, her discarded clothes appeared on her bunk in a puff of smoke.

* * *

"You've _got_ to be _kidding,"_ groaned Chris.

Purple-brown smoke puffed, and Taylor's costume appeared on the bunk. _Thanks, Dad. _She grabbed it and started putting it on. Halfway through, she stopped and looked at him. "I refuse to let my first time be hurried and unsatisfactory," she said. "Let's deal with this, then get back to it later."

Morosely, he started donning his armour sections. Fitting the codpiece on wasn't easy, but he managed it.

Taylor had just strapped her helmet into place when Danny, in full Pathfinder garb, appeared in the room. He picked up her discarded clothes, and they vanished in a puff of smoke. Then he grabbed her hand. "Let's go," he said. He nodded to Chris. "We'll see you there."

* * *

The comms bore a pager message to meet in the main conference room. Taylor and Danny had both been there before; they appeared in the middle of an empty room.

And then the door banged open, and Insight – Lisa – burst through.

"What's the situation?" asked Pathfinder immediately.

"Grue just contacted me," Insight said tersely. "The ABB has gone after the Undersiders. Lung has them cornered in the Trainyards."

"Oh, no," said Taylor. She focused on the Undersiders as she knew them. Insight was in this room. Grue ... was running, spreading darkness. Bitch ... was making her dogs grow, shouting commands to them. Regent ... was hurt, slumped over the back of a dog.

She focused on Lung. He was _immense_. Twice as tall as a man, clad in shining metal scales, a metal-encased tail lashing behind him, breathing fire. Clasping Danny's hand, she focused on the bigger picture, where they were in relation to one another.

It seemed that the Undersiders were trying to break contact, but Lung and his men were pressing them too hard. And there was the other ...

She focused on Lung's known cape minion, Oni Lee.

Teleporting around the Trainyards, throwing grenades, keeping the Undersiders off balance.

"Dad!" she said urgently. "We have to go, _now!"_

"Wait –" began Insight, but they were already gone.

* * *

Miss Militia was heading for the conference room at a dead run. Pathfinder and Compass Rose appeared before her in the corridor. She slowed to a stop; Pathfinder grabbed her by the arm. They went again.

The Trainyards, already a mess after years of neglect, were a maelstrom of destroyed rail carriages, twisted rails, and broken ground. Miss Militia slipped off into the shadows, a long-barrelled rifle in her hands. The ABB had interrupted her in the middle of a _very special moment_. Someone was going to _die_.

Darkness billowed; Grue came sidling out from between two carriages. Taylor grabbed his arm; he spun around, fist cocked, then paused as he saw who it was.

"Lisa sent us," she told him, her voice hollow in his darkness. "We're here to help."

He nodded. "Can you get me back to the others?"

Taylor focused on the location of the other Undersiders, and Pathfinder took them there.

* * *

It was bad.

Bitch's dogs were backed up into a small enclosure between several carriages; they were injured, limping, burned. Regent was sprawled across one, face grey, hanging on for dear life. Bitch was hanging on to another, blood running down her leg.

Lung loomed in the gap between two of the carriages. The dogs snarled, defiant to the end. The metal-clad cape inhaled deeply –

Pathfinder and Compass Rose appeared between the dogs. Grue slapped one. Compass Rose slapped another. And Pathfinder slapped the third.

A ravening blast of fire roared through the cloud of purple-brown smoke, and killed nothing except the train carriage behind them.

They appeared on the street outside the Undersiders' base; it was ruined, shattered, but at least there were no hostiles waiting for them.

Bitch looked around, startled and hostile. The dogs turned, snarling.

"Hey, they saved us!" shouted Grue.

Bitch snapped a command; the dogs quieted.

"What now?" asked Grue.

"Take care of your wounded," said Pathfinder. "We'll be back."

Taylor looked at him; he looked back, nodded. _We have to finish this._

Purple smoke puffed in his hand, and he handed her the small pistol she had used before. He didn't bother with one for himself.

They went again.

* * *

Miss Militia had found herself an eyrie, and was sniping ABB thugs as fast as they showed themselves. However, Oni Lee had also spotted her.

He appeared behind her; she turned fast, a Glock in her hand, already firing. He dropped a grenade, puffed to ash. She stared at the grenade.

Pathfinder and Compass Rose appeared in their trademark billow of smoke, grabbed her, vanished again. The grenade went off.

* * *

"Oni Lee," said Pathfinder.

"Oni Lee," agreed Compass Rose.

His location flickered, but she found she could keep up with it. She started feeding data to Danny. They disappeared, reappeared. Oni Lee was just crumbling to ash. Teleported again. She snapped a shot. Again. She fired another shot.

On the seventh attempt, when he teleported, the wound stayed with him.

They pursued the increasingly-panicked Oni Lee around the Trainyards, until he made the mistake of trying to ambush them. He appeared right behind them; she pointed the gun backward without even looking, and shot him in the face.

He fell, and did not disappear, did not crumble to ash.

* * *

Lung searched for the Undersiders, tearing train carriages aside like cardboard boxes. He roared his frustration to the skies.

They appeared on top of a miraculously undamaged carriage, not far away.

"Lung!" shouted Pathfinder. "Stand down! Last chance!"

He roared, spread metal wings, launched toward them.

They puffed to nothingness.

He shredded the carriage anyway.

A locomotive landed on him; two hundred and fifty tonnes of shaped steel. The impact smashed him down, drove him waist-deep into the ground.

He heaved up from under it. "This won't hurt me!" he roared. "Nothing will hurt me! I'm LUNG, motherfuckers!"

"That wasn't meant to hurt you!" called Pathfinder. "Just to keep you in one place, just long enough!" They vanished.

Lung cursed, swore, raged. He tore a the wreckage pinning him down. Threw aside the last part of the locomotive.

"Fuck you!" he roared. "I'll find you! I'll ..."

He looked up.

"Oh fuck."

* * *

The freighter _Warden Point_ was rated at fifty thousand dead weight tonnes; it had not been fully loaded for decades, and for the last ten years had slowly been sinking at its moorings in the Boat Graveyard. Its canted deck was now only five feet above the water on one side, and fifteen on the other.

From across the Boat Graveyard, two figures appeared, first on the deck of one ship, then on another. They skipped across the intervening distances so fast that there were three or four puffs of purple-brown smoke marking their path.

There were no words, barely any thought processes. Taylor was multitasking at an extreme rate, taking in the sizes and relative structural strengths of each of the ships she could see, all at once. _No ... no ... no ...no._

They landed on the deck of the _Warden Point._

_Yes_.

The _Warden Point _had no working engines; these, and the relevant controls, had been salvaged and/or scavenged years ago. It had been thought she would never move again.

She moved.

A massive billow of purple-brown smoke, and she was gone.

With a tremendous crashing and banging of disturbed ship hulls, over fifty thousand tonnes of water rushed in to fill the gap.

* * *

A tremendous billow of purple-brown smoke filled the sky.

The _Warden Point_ fell out of it.

Lung had no idea what it was, save that it was _immense_, and that it was falling toward him.

He tried desperately to get out of the way, spread his wings to fly.

He didn't make it.

It landed on him.

The rusted metal burst; stagnant seawater spread everywhere. Lung's fire was extinguished, his metal-covered body crushed into the ground. The sheer force was more than he could withstand.

* * *

Transports whined through the air, came in for a landing. Director Piggot got out, stomped up to Pathfinder, went to shake a finger in his face, then turned.

"What," she asked faintly, "is a _ship_ doing in the Trainyards?"

"Lung's under it," Pathfinder said, as if that explained everything.

Piggot paused. "... right," she said. "Is he still alive?"

Compass Rose nodded. "Yes," she said, "but I think he might be drowning."

Pathfinder nodded; he and Compass Rose disappeared, reappeared on the buckled deck of the _Warden Point_. And then it disappeared again.

* * *

It reappeared in the air two dozen feet above its old mooring point. The inrush of water had drawn several hulls into that space. Taylor was fully aware of that, but she had nowhere else to put the ship. They disappeared again.

* * *

Purple-brown smoke billowed, and they reappeared beside Director Piggot. "Down there," Compass Rose said, pointing.

There was a very distant sound, like an explosion. Or like the damaged hull of a ship had just fallen into the water on top of other ships.

PRT troops advanced. Shortly, they returned, dragging the very unconscious body of Lung, now back to his normal human form.

"Oni Lee?" asked Director Piggot.

Compass Rose shrugged slightly. "He was ... too much of a danger." She pointed. "He's over there somewhere."

"And Miss Militia?"

Compass Rose pointed. "Over there. Rounding up the last of the ABB survivors."

Director Piggot nodded. "Well, I have to admit it. You two have done it again."

"And Insight," said Compass Rose. "Don't forget Insight."

"I _wish_ I could forget that girl," sighed the Director. "She's invaluable, and she knows it, so she's also about the most irritating ..."

"Where _is_ she, anyway?" asked Pathfinder. "I'm surprised she isn't here."

Compass Rose blinked. "Ah," she said.

"Ah?" asked Director Piggot.

* * *

The PRT transport came in for an unconventional landing near the group of Undersiders; Grue was doing his best to keep pressure on Regent's hip wound, but he didn't like the rate at which his teammate was losing blood.

Bitch, despite her leg wound, was on her feet, her dogs growling at the new arrival.

And then an unfamiliar figure swung down from the cockpit. "Guys!" she called, the voice very familiar. "Come on! Let's go!"

"Where to?" asked Grue warily.

"The PRT, of course!" she called back. "Come _on!_ I only borrowed this for a little while, so I need to have it back before they realise it's gone!"

Grue felt a grin spreading across his face, under his mask. "You _stole_ it?" he asked disbelievingly.

"Stole, borrowed, whatever," Lisa retorted, moving forward to help with Regent.

* * *

"We'll be right back," said Compass Rose. She squeezed Pathfinder's hand. "Let's go."

They went.

Director Piggot opened her mouth to ask where they were going, but found herself looking at a puff of purple-brown smoke.

She sighed. _At least they get results._

Then she looked at the devastation in the Trainyards.

_Dropped a __**ship **__on him. Holy Christ._

* * *

Brian and Lisa were halfway to the transport with Alec when Compass Rose and Pathfinder appeared nearby.

"You're almost out of time," said Compass Rose. "We need to get this thing, and you, back to the PRT as soon as possible, before Director Piggot starts asking questions."

Lisa's face lit up. "Oh, _thank_ you," she grinned. She looked at the two of them. "Lung's down?"

Pathfinder nodded, took Grue's arm. Smoke billowed; they reappeared inside the transport. Grue helped Regent on to a bench. Bitch limped up; Compass Rose offered her hand to help her up. Bitch stared at her for a moment, then accepted the help. The dogs, none the worse for wear, leaped up as well.

Compass Rose and Pathfinder clasped hands; the transport puffed into purple-brown smoke, reappeared in the PRT transport bay.

From there, they went directly to the infirmary. Fortunately, the infirmary staff had been warned to expect casualties. They just weren't expecting supervillains.

The presence of Compass Rose and Pathfinder smoothed things down a lot, and Regent and Bitch were soon undergoing treatment.

Danny drew Taylor aside, and said quietly, "Why didn't we just take them to Panacea?"

Taylor grinned. "She's uh ... busy."

Her link with him filled in the gaps. His eyebrows raised. "Well," he said. "Well, well, _well."_

* * *

Director Piggot stomped into the infirmary, her expression thunderous. "Can someone please explain to me why three _supervillains_ are getting priority treatment in the _PRT_ sickbay?" she demanded.

"Because they're joining the Protectorate," declared Insight.

Four sets of eyes swung to lock on her.

"What?' demanded Piggot.

"Fucking _what?"_ echoed Grue, with rather more emphasis.

"You're shitting me!" chimed in Regent, from where medics were working on his hip.

Bitch didn't even bother talking.

"It's like this," said Insight. "Three of you. That's barely a superteam at all. More of a duo with a plus one. The ABB hit you hard, nearly killed you. Who's going to hit you next? Empire Eighty-Eight? Your best bet is to join the biggest, baddest team on the block. And that's right here, in the Protectorate building."

She turned to the seething Director. "Grue knows his stuff. So does Regent. And Bitch is _amazing_ with dogs. Tell me you can't make use of them." She grinned her vulpine grin. "Go on, tell me you haven't done exactly this before now anyway."

Piggot shook her head. "Christ." She turned and stomped away. "We'll talk about this later," she said.

Lisa turned to the others with a beaming smile. "If you accept ... you're in," she said.

And while there was much heated argument, no-one actually said no, then or later.

* * *

"So there's no-one home?" asked Vicky as they glided in for a landing.

"Nope," grinned Amy. "I asked Dad what they'd be doing. They're going to a show. It doesn't finish till nearly eleven."

"Ooooh," said Vicky, her tone suggestive.

Amy nodded. "Oh, yes," she agreed.

* * *

Vicky unlocked the door and they went inside. Amy closed the door, and then turned to her sister. "Thank you for a wonderful date," she said, and took Vicky in her arms. Vicky embraced her, and their lips met.

The kiss was long and passionate. When they finally broke apart, Vicky was breathing heavily. So was Amy.

"Please ..." said Vicky. Her voice was imploring.

Amy smiled. "I'll meet you in your room," she said softly.

Vicky rarely flew inside the house. As she disappeared up the stairs, Amy fancied she heard a small sonic boom.

* * *

Amy made her way to her room, and there she took from her closet something she had gotten some time ago. It had been saved for a very special occasion. That occasion was now.

Slowly, she removed her clothing. Donned the special dress. Exited her room.

* * *

Purple-brown smoke billowed, and Pathfinder and Miss Militia reappeared in the bedroom of Danny's house.

"If anything else happens tonight ..." he breathed.

A large pistol was in her hand. "I will shoot it right in the _head,"_ she promised. The gun became a small knife, in a wrist sheath.

They were soon back on the bed.

* * *

Vicky lounged on her bed, wearing the tiniest, naughtiest micro-bikini that she could find. Her parents would have had a collective fit if she had even hinted at wearing it outside. But for something like this ... it was _perfect._

She looked up as Amy opened the door and entered her room. Closed the door gently behind her.

She was wearing soft white lace, draped around her body, not quite hiding her charms. Looking at Vicky lounging on the bed, wearing just three small scraps of cloth, her breath caught in her throat.

"Vicky ..." she said softly. "Tonight ... I am yours."

She took a step forward, and shrugged the dress off her shoulders. With a silken whisper, it slid to the floor, a puddle of lace at her feet.

Victoria Dallon swallowed. Amy was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. She reached out her hand; Amy took it. She helped her sister climb on to the bed.

* * *

Compass Rose and Kid Win stood in his quarters, facing each other. She removed her helmet; he did he same with his. She leaned in and kissed him, standing on tiptoe.

"Can we ..." he said tentatively, " ... keep doing what we were just doing before?"

She smiled, and undid the fastenings of her top.

He gulped, and began to remove his armour.

* * *

Vicky, panting as though she had just run a marathon, stared up at Amy, still dazed.

"Oh ... my ... god," she whispered.

Amy kissed her again. "Your turn," she breathed in reply.

Amy suddenly found herself pinned to the bed. She stared up at Vicky, eyes wide.

"Oh," she exclaimed. "What are you going to do with me?"

Vicky kissed her hard, leaving her breathless.

_"Everything,"_ she promised.

Amy's eyes glowed. "Oh," she replied softly. "Yes, _please."_

* * *

Danny and Hannah lay together afterward, holding one another, kissing gently.

"Thank you, Danny," murmured Hannah. She kissed him. "I am so very happy right now."

He kissed her back. "So am I," he agreed. "So am I."

* * *

Taylor kissed Chris as they lay side by side, panting, covered in sweat.

"Oh god ..." he murmured. She laid her head on his chest. No more words needed be said.

* * *

Victoria lay with Amy in her arms, half asleep. She stared up at the shadowed ceiling of the bedroom.

She had originally agreed to date Amy from a sense of charity, to make her sister happy. It had gone far, far beyond that. What she had with Amy now was special. Tonight had proven that beyond a doubt.

_Sorry, Dean,_ she thought as she eased into sleep. _You lose._

* * *

End of Part 17


	18. Chapter 18

**Finding the Way**

* * *

Part 18: Conference

* * *

There was a sharp knock on the door. Carol Dallon's voice. "Victoria! Breakfast is ready!"

Vicky and Amy jolted awake, stared into each other's eyes. Amy saw memory returning, could almost hear the _click_ as Vicky lined up her recollections and remembered what they'd done the previous night.

She smiled, lazily.

"Be right down, Mom!" she called, then kissed Amy slowly, deliciously. Amy returned the kiss, enjoying every second of it.

Rolling out of bed, Vicky put on her usual sleepwear, with a bathrobe over the top. She tossed Amy more clothes, as well as a robe; while Vicky was taller, they wore much the same sizes of clothes.

Which was fortunate, as Mark Dallon saw Amy emerge from Vicky's room.

"Amy girl?" he said curiously. "Why were you in there?"

Amy was stuck for an answer – _should have thought of something ahead of time,_ she berated herself – but Vicky spoke up. "Ames had a nightmare. Asked if she could sleep in my bed." She shrugged. "What could I do?"

Mark frowned. "The nightmares coming back, Amy girl?" They had been a not uncommon occurrence in her earlier years with the Dallons. Amy had slept in Vicky's bed then, too.

She shook her head, managing to look sheepish. "No," she said. "I think this was a once-off."

He nodded. "Good." A smile for Vicky. "Thanks for taking care of your sister."

Vicky grinned. "It was my pleasure, Dad. I love her too much to let her have nightmares all on her own."

For a frozen moment, Amy thought Vicky might have overstepped the mark, been just a bit too clever with her little play on words, but Mark nodded judiciously. "Good," he said again, and headed downstairs. Amy and Vicky followed.

* * *

"I've called this conference," said Director Piggot, "to determine the status of the Undersiders, and to see which ones are willing and able to become part of the Wards or the Protectorate proper."

Around the table sat the Director, Armsmaster, Miss Militia, Pathfinder and Compass Rose, Aegis, Insight, Grue and Bitch. A wall-mounted screen showed a view of Regent, still lying on a bed in the infirmary. The medics had stated that they didn't want to move him until he was out of danger; in any case, he had lost rather a lot of blood, and was weaker than they would have liked.

This had not stopped him from smarting off, of course.

"The way I see it," said Insight, "the Undersiders are basically finished, as a group. Coil was the main reason we – they – were successful, and he's out of the picture. I'm out – I never wanted to be in the group in the first place – and I'm liking it where I am now. You have two able-bodied members, one of whom has a murder charge hanging over her head."

"She deserved it," muttered Bitch. "Tried to drown my dog."

"That's as may be," declared Director Piggot. "Grue. Your real name is …?"

"Brian Laborn," replied the tall black youth in the motorcycle leathers. "I've got no trouble joining, but I'm going to need a favour."

"We're not in the business of giving out favours to criminals," snapped Armsmaster.

"Wait," said Pathfinder. "Suppose we find out what the favour is, first."

Miss Militia nodded. "Suppose we do." She looked toward Brian. "Mr Laborn?"

Brian sighed. "I have a sister. Her name's Aisha. She's living with my mother and whatever her boyfriend of the week is like. Mom's a druggie, and she attracts more of the same. I want Aisha out of there – she's only thirteen."

Taylor concentrated on the name 'Aisha Laborn' and she quickly formed a mental image. She took hold of Pathfinder's hand under the table, and it went from a still image to real-time action.

They stood at the same time, their chairs skidding backward. Purple-brown smoke billowed, and they were gone.

Silence fell on the room; Compass Rose's chair tilted back and fell over. Everyone jumped, except Insight.

"The hell?" said Brian. "Do they do that often?"

"Only if someone's in trouble," said Miss Militia and Insight simultaneously. They glanced at each other in mild surprise.

Brian came to his feet. "Aisha!" he exclaimed, his face going grey with worry.

"Sit. Down," ordered Armsmaster. "I won't tell you twice."

"Besides," said Miss Militia, "they're very effective. They know what –"

* * *

Smoke billowed, and they reappeared beside the table. Compass Rose had one arm around a black girl in her early teens. She was dressed, or almost so, in a strapless top that would have served better as underwear, ripped denim shorts and neon green fishnet leggings.

"Brian!" called the girl, pulling free of Compass Rose's arm and running around the table. Compass Rose looked around for her chair, picked it up, and leaned on it, apparently catching her breath. Pathfinder pulled a handkerchief from a puff of smoke, and seemed to be wiping blood from the knuckles of his gloves.

"Aisha!" replied Brian, and he met the girl halfway. They hugged, fiercely.

"You got some badass friends, big bro," said Aisha, not letting Brian go. "Beat the living goddamn shit out of Bradley. Good thing, too." She began to describe Bradley in terms which were both highly colourful and considerably obscene.

"Enough!" shouted the Director, and for a wonder, Aisha shut up. "What … is going on here?"

Compass Rose looked around at her. "This 'Bradley' was attempting to assault Aisha here. He had her clothes half off when I saw them. I had no time to ask permission. We went there. Pathfinder explained to Bradley the error of his ways, while I calmed down Aisha and then we brought her back." She didn't explain why she seemed out of breath.

"Fuckin' explained the fuckin' error of his ways, all right!" crowed Aisha. "Where can I get boots like that? I wanna go back an' kick the shit out of him some more."

Piggot leaned out and looked down at Pathfinder's boots. They appeared to be stained with a variety of substances. This might have been mud, or something else.

Brian spoke up. "Help me take care of Aisha and I'll join. Follow whatever rules you want me to." He looked over at Pathfinder and Compass Rose. "Thank you. I mean it."

"We're not a childcare agency –" began Armsmaster.

"With all due respect, sir," said Pathfinder. "But you didn't see that house. We did. I wouldn't have imprisoned _Coil_ there. Taking that girl out of that place was the best thing that we could have done for her." He took a deep breath. "I'll _adopt_ her before I let her go back."

Aisha stared at him. "You'd do that? For _me?"_ She looked around the table at the others seated there, and then back at Brian. "Wait one cotton-pickin' second, big bro. _Who_ are you joining again? Because this looks awful like the Protectorate, here."

Brian nodded. "And that's who I'm joining, Aisha," he said. "They saved my life, me and Rachel and Alec. From Lung."

Aisha stared, impressed. "You went up against _Lung?_ Fuck me, that must have been some fight."

"Not really," said Aegis. "From what I heard, Pathfinder and Compass Rose dropped a ship on him. He sort of folded after that."

Aisha's eyes widened. "Fu –"

_"One_ more expletive out of your mouth, young lady," snapped Director Piggot, "and I will give Pathfinder and Compass Rose a direct order to take you to the nearest washroom and scrub your mouth out with soap." She slapped the table with her hand. "Do I make myself abundantly clear?"

Aisha stopped talking, looked at Piggot, then at Pathfinder, then at Compass Rose. The latter nodded, as if to say, _Yes, we'd do it._

"Uh, yes, you do," she said, pausing in between words to apparently ensure that she wasn't going to come out with an accidental swear-word.

"I'm impressed," commented Brian, into the silence that followed. "No-one's ever managed to get Aisha's attention like that before."

"Well, he-heck, big bro," Aisha said cheerfully. "You shoulda seen Mr, uh, Pathfinder here, kicking the living sh-sh-shoelaces outta Bradley. He fu-f-uh, he made him real sorry he'd ever touched me."

"Still not sure you should have thrown him down the stairs, though," commented Compass Rose.

Piggot stared. "You _threw_ a man down the _stairs?"_ she demanded.

Pathfinder shrugged. "Child molester, would-be rapist," he said, as if this explained it all.

Aegis, Armsmaster, Miss Militia and Director Piggot looked at one another.

"I'm, uh, not seeing a problem," said Aegis.

Miss Militia shrugged.

Armsmaster frowned, then nodded. "I have little sympathy for him," he concluded.

The Director looked at Compass Rose. "His current status?" she demanded.

She took hold of Pathfinder's hand. "Moving. Alive. Appears to have a broken arm. In some pain. But he's almost at the top of the stairs again."

"Well, he's alive, and he may well have learned a salutary lesson," said Piggot. "Unless Ms Laborn wants to press charges …?"

Aisha shrugged. "Fu – uh, forget him," she decided, with a quick glance at Pathfinder. "If I can stay with you guys, I'm good."

"What's the legalities of this situation?" asked Pathfinder. "Getting her out of her mother's custody might be quite a battle."

Director Piggot shrugged. "There's drugs in the house?"

Aisha nodded. "A shi-uh, shedload, yeah."

"So we call the police," continued the Director. "They raid the place, bust everyone for possession, she's no longer a fit mother, and we fast-track her being put into your joint custody." She looked at Brian, then at Pathfinder. "Mr Laborn, how old are you?"

"Seventeen, ma'am," said Brian promptly.

She nodded. "Well, when you turn eighteen, you'll be eligible to take full custody. Until then, you and Pathfinder here will have joint custody. How does that suit you?"

Brian looked at Pathfinder. "You got her out of that hellhole. That suits me just fine."

"Well then, that's settled. Mr Laborn, find your sister a seat, and start thinking about the name you'll be using in the Wards. Also, your sister will need more substantial clothing than she's wearing at the moment."

Compass Rose leaned in and whispered for a moment to Pathfinder; a few seconds later, a puff of spoke heralded the arrival of a folded T-shirt in his free hand. It puffed again, reappearing on the table in front of Brian.

"The hell?" he said, picking it up, and opening it to show a screen-print of Alexandria on it.

"Let's just say, I'm donating to the cause," said Compass Rose.

Brian wordlessly handed the shirt to his sister, who looked at Pathfinder and Compass Rose. The latter nodded. Aisha shrugged, and pulled the shirt over her head, drastically reducing the amount of skin she was showing.

"Thank _you_, Compass Rose," said the Director. "Moving on. Ms Lindt."

"Bitch," muttered the stocky auburn-haired girl.

"I _beg_ your pardon?" snapped Director Piggot.

"Unacceptable!" snapped Armsmaster at the same time.

"Whoa, whoa," said Brian. "She calls herself Bitch. She wasn't calling you a name, she was just telling you what she wants to be called." He turned to his companion. "Right – Bitch?"

Reluctantly, she nodded.

Piggot frowned. "Well, in that case … we're going to have to change that name. But, for the moment … are you willing to join the Wards?"

Rachel raised her eyes to the Director. "Do I get to keep the dogs?" she asked bluntly.

"Kennels can be set up for them," said Miss Militia cautiously.

"No, I mean _all_ the dogs," countered Rachel.

"I … don't get you," said Director Piggot.

Brian cleared his throat. "Uh, if I may, ma'am?" he said.

Piggot nodded. "Go ahead, Mr Laborn."

"Uh, Bitch wants to be able to take in any stray dogs she finds," he explained. "Any that are being mistreated. There are dog-fighting rings in the city. She wants to take those down, too, rescue the dogs."

"And once you've got these dogs," said Armsmaster, "what will you do with them?"

"Feed them," said Rachel. "Get them healthy. Train them."

"She's really, really good with dogs," put in Brian.

"Could you train dogs to police standards?" asked Miss Militia, her expression thoughtful.

Rachel just snorted.

"That's a yes," clarified Brian. "But she doesn't stop there."

"Very well," said Director Piggot. "Suppose I placed you in the PRT – under supervision, of course – to work with police and military dog handlers, training dogs to your standards. And I made it a condition of your working for us that any stray dogs go under your care, and you have adequate facilities to care for them all."

Rachel looked up at her. "What's the catch?" she asked.

Piggot gave her a thin smile. "You train dogs to work with _other_ people," she said bluntly. "Not just you."

Bitch gave her a flat stare. "Okay, but I get to take _any_ dog that needs help. Not just the types trainers need."

The Director matched her, stare for stare. "Deal," she said.

Armsmaster cleared his throat. "Uh – what about the fact that she's got a murder charge on her sheet?"

Piggot gave him a bland stare. "I _said_ she'll be under supervision. You're it. You're also her liaison. If she has a complaint, she goes to you. If people are screwing her over, all I want to hear is the after-action report."

Both Armsmaster and Rachel started to protest; Piggot stared them both down. "You've got a problem with each other, deal with it between yourselves," she said grimly. "Now. Regent."

The speaker next to the wall screen came to life. _"Ah, Director. I was wondering when you'd get to me."_

"I would have waited until you were healthier," said the Director, "but I'd prefer to get this out of the way now." She paused. "We have several aliases on file for you. Which is your birth name?"

_"Jean-Paul Vasil,"_replied Regent on the screen. _"But I prefer just plain 'Alec'."_

"Vasil … Vasil," muttered Armsmaster. "I know that name." He muttered the name one more time, then paused.

A moment later, he spoke slowly. "You're related to _Heartbreaker?"_

_"The very same,"_ confirmed Regent. _"But I'd rather that did not become common knowledge. He might decide to come take me back. And I don't want to go back."_ He paused. _"But here's the thing. I'm grateful for the rescue and the medical attention; don't think I'm not. But I'm a Master. I control people. This sort of creeps people out. Is there even room in your clubhouse for someone like me?"_

"What do you control about people?" asked Miss Militia.

_"Their movements. Use of physical powers. Stuff like that,"_said Regent.

"So you don't control minds?" pressed Miss Militia.

_"Not as such, no,"_confirmed Regent. _"Don't think I haven't tried. But it just doesn't work that way."_

Miss Militia glanced at Armsmaster. He nodded fractionally.

"So we team you with people who have mental abilities, that you can't control," he said. "Of course, like the others, you'll wear a tracking bracelet until we decide you're trustworthy."

_"Seriously?"_ asked Regent. _"Why not just an explosive collar?"_

"We prefer not to use such drastic means," Director Piggot deadpanned. "Though we _could_ make an exception in your case."

Regent grinned. _"Okay, fine. Tracking bracelet it is."_

"Then welcome to the Wards," said Director Piggot.

She got up and left the room; as she went, Compass Rose heard her mutter something. She couldn't be sure, but it sounded like, "and I hope we're not all making a huge mistake."

She understood the sentiment perfectly.

* * *

End of Part 18


	19. Chapter 19

**Finding the Way**

* * *

Part 19: Operation Dragon Drop

* * *

Bitch glowered at Armsmaster. "I don't need a fucking minder!" she snarled.

"And the PRT doesn't need someone who can't take orders!" he growled back. He took a breath; he was under specific orders to not start a fight with her. "I can either watch you, or you go directly into custody. There's no third option. Do you get that?"

She looked at him. He was bigger than her, stronger than her, and she didn't have any dogs with her. In addition, he had been very firmly put into authority over her.

And they were caring for her dogs. She had seen to that. _Might as well find out what the fuck's going on._

She shook her head. "What the fuck is this all about, anyway? I didn't get half that shit back there. All that high-end double-talk bullshit. What's it come down to?"

He sighed. "Director Piggot thinks she's being _smart,"_ he explained. "You got rescued from Lung and the ABB, so she thinks you owe us. And she'd rather have capes working for us, under her thumb, than in jail."

She stared at him. "Well, why the fuck didn't they just say so?"

He shrugged. "They like to hear themselves talk?"

She surprised herself with a chuckle. "You got that fucking right. Talk, talk, _fucking_ talk. Never say what they fucking mean."

He looked at her. "Well, with me, that's the least of your worries. If I say something to you, what it sounds like is what it means. I don't believe in needless talk."

She was silent for a moment. "Okay," she said. "What happens now?"

"Now," he said, "we go and get you processed in, and start talking about legal matters."

"Legal matters?" she asked. "What the fuck is this?"

"You've still got a murder charge hanging over you. That sort of thing doesn't just go away. So we're going to use our high-powered lawyers to use their legal double-talk bullshit to _make_ it go away." He pointed at her. "You don't say a fucking word. I got this shit."

She shrugged her shoulders. "Fine," she agreed. "So long as I don't have to _understand_ it."

* * *

Director Piggot closed the window on her screen and smiled with quiet satisfaction. _That could have gone either way,_she knew. _But thankfully, their mutual social ineptitude provided a bonding point rather than a friction point._

She smiled with satisfaction. _And Lung is down, the ABB scattered. A good day's work._

Slowly, she shook her head. _Dropped a fucking __**ship **__on him. Christ almighty._

* * *

Purple-brown smoke billowed, and four people were standing in the Hebert living room.

Pathfinder and Compass Rose took their helmets off to become Danny and Taylor Hebert. As they did so, Brian and Aisha looked around with some interest.

"You're underage until June," said Danny, "so until then, I'll technically be your legal guardian." He nodded to Brian. "I'll be expecting you to keep your sister in line, though."

Aisha rolled her eyes. "Yeah," she said. "Like _that's _gonna happen."

"Hey!" snapped Brian. "They're good enough to take us in, you show them some respect, okay? Or have you forgotten what they pulled you out of?"

Aisha subsided, looking sulky. "I was just joking," she muttered.

Taylor broke the awkward silence that followed. "Come on," she said to Aisha. "I'll show you your room."

"I get my own room?" asked Aisha, startled out of her sulk.

"Sure," said Taylor. "Come on." She led the way upstairs, along the hallway, and opened the door. "It's our spare room," she explained. "It's no problem for you to stay here until you and Brian have a place of your own."

"Where's Brian gonna be sleeping?" asked Aisha.

"For Brian, we can unfold the sofa bed, downstairs," explained Taylor. "Not the most comfortable, but it's there, and it's handy."

"So wait," said Aisha. "You're making my big brother sleep on the _couch?"_ She grinned. "This is too good."

Taylor shook her head and sighed. "You're getting way too much enjoyment out of this."

Aisha grinned and nodded. "Yup."

* * *

"Are you sure it's okay for us to be here?" asked Brian, while Danny made coffee.

Danny nodded. ""If it wasn't, I wouldn't have asked. And Taylor's good with it too."

"Ah," said Brian. "Gotcha.". He paused. "You can read her that well?"

Danny nodded. "It's a power thing. I know how she's feeling, and where she is, and vice versa.". He started pouring the coffee.

"What, _all_ the time?" asked Brian. "I don't know if I could stand to have someone in my head twenty-four-seven like that."

Danny shrugged. "It's normal to us, now. Taylor needs me, and I need her. It's that simple.". He handed Brian his coffee.

"Now," he said, "we'll be putting you on the sofa bed. Aisha will be going into the spare room. Any stuff you own you can put in with Aisha, or downstairs in the basement." He looked at Brian. "Any questions?"

"Just one," said Brian. "I'm a criminal. My sister's shoplifted more than once. How do you know you can trust us in your home? Not to steal stuff, I mean."

Danny grinned. "You _do_ recall what our powers are, don't you?"

Brian looked enlightened. "Ah, of course. And Lisa _said_ you were more powerful than they said on TV."

Danny nodded. "Just a little," he allowed. "Just a little."

Brian paused. "So ... the fact that Taylor can keep tabs on us, that's why you took us in?" he asked.

Danny shook his head. "No. The reason's a lot simpler than that."

He paused; Brian sent him a searching look. "Such as?" he asked.

"We've been where you are," said Danny bluntly. "Not exactly," he went on, as Brian opened his mouth, "but close enough. We were in a bad place - _Taylor_was in a bad place - and there wasn't much I could do to help her. Anyone we tried reaching out to either couldn't or wouldn't help us. We were just about holding things together, but I didn't know how long that would last. And then ... we got our powers. And that changed everything."

"Getting powers didn't change things enough for me," muttered Brian.

Danny nodded sympathetically. "I guess we were in the right place at the right time. My power alone is enough to make the Protectorate want me in their ranks. With Taylor added in, they were willing to bend way, wayy over backward in order to get us on side."

"I can see that," agreed Brian. "Is it true that you dropped a _ship_ on Lung?"

Danny nodded. "Yeah," he said. "It was the biggest thing we could find that I could be sure of moving in a hurry."

Brian shook his head. "I don't know whether to be more impressed that you moved it, or that Lung survived it being dropped on him."

Danny chuckled. "There is that.". He paused. "So yes, Taylor and I have been there, been where we desperately needed help and no-one would give it. You and Aisha are there now. So ... we're helping."

Brian nodded. "Well ... thanks," he said, and he didn't mean the coffee.

"Anytime," said Danny, and nor did he.

Just then, his smartphone rang.

* * *

Aisha bounced experimentally on the bed. "Cool," she said. "It doesn't even smell of piss or cigarette smoke. Or puke. Puke's the worst."

Taylor shook her head, trying not to smile at the way Aisha was trying to conceal her delight. "I've been there," she said. "But not to sleep in."

"Yeah?" asked Aisha. "What happened?"

So Taylor told the story of how she was shut in the locker, and how her father had come and got her out. Aisha was silent for most of the telling, her eyes growing wider and wider.

"Fuck," she said at the end. "Those _bitches."_

Taylor nodded. "They got away with it for more than two years; there was no reason for them to think they couldn't get away with it this time. Except ...". She paused. "You know Shadow Stalker?"

"Fuck yes," said Aisha. "She's been trying to off Brian since the first time they met."

Taylor nodded. "Somehow, I'm not surprised," she said. "She's one of the bitches, you see. So when I got my powers and figured _that_ one out ..."

Aisha nodded. "Well, fuck," she said happily. "I'd love to have seen tho look on her face when that came out.". She paused. "So what happened to her?"

Taylor shrugged. "Apparently, she tried to make a run for it. Didn't get very far. So they threw the book at her. Go straight to jail, do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars."

Aisha grinned. "I'll tell Brian that. It'll make his day.". She paused. "So what happened -"

She didn't get any farther, because just then Taylor's smartphone went off in the pouch on her belt. Taylor pulled it out and answered it. "Compass Rose."

It was Miss Militia. _"Crawler's on the move. We need you to execute plan Operation Dragon Drop."_

"Roger," said Taylor crisply. She put the phone away and held out her hands in front of her; there was a puff of purple-brown smoke and her helmet fell into them.

"Shit," said Aisha, impressed, just as Danny appeared in the bedroom, still buckling his own helmet on. "What's up? You going somewhere?"

"Tell you when we get back," said Taylor. She gave the surprised Aisha a quick hug. "I'm glad you're safe," she said softly.

And then purple smoke bloomed, and they were gone.

* * *

Aisha watched it dissipate, then bounced on the bed again. It was just as springy as it had been the first time around.

Danny and Taylor appeared in the middle of the living room. Danny turned to Brian. "I probably don't need to say this," he said, "but you're in charge till we get back. There's food in the fridge, the remote's on the TV, and the bathroom's upstairs. We'll go pick up your clothes when we get the chance."

"Okay," said Brian. "And thanks again."

He found himself talking to a cloud of the same purple-brown smoke as it wafted into nothingness.

"Well, fuck," he said out loud.

Aisha appeared at the top of the stairs. "Hey, big bro. Are you believing this?"

Brian shook his head. "Not really." He looked around at the living room, at the small TV set. "I wonder if Danny would object to me moving the gaming console in here."

Aisha came skipping down the stairs. "Taylor would probably enjoy the hell out of it. Hell, you might even be able to rope Danny in. He seems pretty cool."

Brian nodded. "Hey, we can only ask," he said cheerfully.

They flopped on to the sofa, side by side. After a brief tussle, Brian won custody of the remote, which he used to turn on the TV. Soon, he was flicking through news channels to see if he could find out where Pathfinder and Compass Rose had gone off to in such a tearing hurry.

* * *

Shatterbird had survived the initial attack on the Slaughterhouse Nine, but she had only lasted a week on her own before a conglomerate of capes from the Southwest had banded together and captured her, using location data supplied by the PRT (and, ultimately, Compass Rose). She was handed over to the local PRT, more dead than alive. Given the extant kill order on her head, she was summarily executed.

Crawler had been a different matter. A stand-up fight he could handle, even relish. But when fliers zoomed overhead, trying to freeze or tranquillise or otherwise make him amenable to capture, he had no fun. There wasn't even much in the way of damage for him to heal.

So he had hidden out, away from the clattering helicopters, the rumbling armoured vehicles. They didn't try to shoot him any more; they had learned that it did virtually nothing. But the helicopters and ground vehicles did have familiar-looking spray guns. Containment foam.

Crawler considered containment foam to be the most cheating, unfair thing that the PRT had ever brought out. It did no damage, but it held him still. The only way for him to get out of it was to spit his corrosive saliva on it, or to break free by main force. If they deployed enough foam, neither way would work.

But he'd figured it out.

If he stayed in one place for too long, they'd bring in something that could hold him. So he was gonna go for broke, head for the nearest population centre. Once he started tearing things up, eating people, they'd have to bring in the big guns, dealing the big hurt. Really start trying to kill him.

_I can't fucking wait._

* * *

Pathfinder and Compass Rose appeared beside Miss Miltia, on the landing stage of the PRT building. She raised an eyebrow. "That took a few seconds longer than I expected," she observed.

Pathfinder shrugged. "We had to make sure the Laborns were settled in," he explained.

Miss Militia nodded. "Well, I'll be your pilot for the day." She turned to the Dragon suit crouching on the landing stage. "It's technically a two-seater. You're going to have to share the second seat."

"We'll manage," Pathfinder assured her.

She nodded to him. "I presumed as much."

Climbing into the the rear seat of the Dragon suit was a little tricky; Compass Rose ended up sitting on Pathfinder's lap. He wore the restraints, as they would not go around the both of them.

As the cockpit closed over their heads, Pathfinder put his arms around his daughter's waist; Compass Rose clasped his hands in hers, so that they had solid contact.

The Dragon suit roared to life, and lifted off on jets of blue flame.

_"When you're ready,"_ Miss Militia said over the intercom.

Compass Rose nodded. She gave Pathfinder the location.

The PRT guards on the roof saw the craft disappear in a cloud of purple-brown smoke.

* * *

They were hovering over an arid landscape. Almost directly below, a monstrous form thundered over the landscape, multiple legs kicking up dust as it headed for the distant horizon. A single helicopter circled it lazily.

_"All units, all units,"_broadcast Miss Militia. _"Operation Dragon Drop is a go."_

_"Roger,"_ replied the PRT personnel in the helicopter. _"Commence Operation Dragon Drop."_

Miss Militia had been trained in the use of these Dragon suits, and Dragon herself was acting as backup pilot. She brought the suit down in a long swooping run at Crawler's rear end, but the massive creature was faster than it looked. Abruptly braking, she pulled up as Crawler spun around and lunged for it.

_"Can you 'port us close enough to grab him?"_ she said over the intercom.

Pathfinder keyed the intercom. "Let him grab us. The armour on this can take the hit long enough."

_"Huh,"_ said Miss Militia. _"Okay. It just feels ... wrong, to deliberately allow an enemy to strike me."_

"Even if he rips our jets off, I can still 'port us to a safe landing," Pathfinder pointed out.

_"Your point is well made. Very well. Commencing second run."_

Pathfinder tightened his grip around Compass Rose, so as to keep her steady.

The Dragon suit swooped down; Crawler once more turned to meet it, but this time Miss Militia did not shy from contact.

The impact was bruising, but Pathfinder kept hold of Compass Rose.

"I have him!" shouted Miss Militia, audible even without the intercom, over the scream of the jets.

Tentacles coiled past the windows. And Crawler, apparently, had them. The jets laboured, but were unable to lift the mass of the monster they were now grappling with.

In the back seat, the two capes squeezed their clasped hands together tightly. Solid body contact was established.

The Dragon suit, Crawler and all, disappeared from under the baking sun.

* * *

Purple-brown smoke billowed, and the ungainly combination reappeared, in the depths of a shaft that had been tunneled straight down into the living rock.

There were no aquifers, no underground water, nothing here except ... rock.

Very thick rock.

Jets screamed as Dragon and Miss Militia tried to stabilise the craft against the motion of the creature that was doing its best to climb on top of it and gain entry.

They bumped, jarringly, against the side of the shaft.

Purple-brown smoke billowed again, and Crawler was left without any means of support.

**_"OOOHHHH FUUUCCCKKK YOOOUUU!"_** he bellowed, in his discordant multiple voices, as he fell.

* * *

The Dragon craft appeared high in the sky, skidding sideways, jets flaring as Miss Militia and Dragon worked to bring it under control. It didn't take long; however, even after it was on an even keel, red lights flared across the control panel, showing what damage it had taken.

_"So, did it work?"_ asked Miss Militia, over the intercom.

Crawler hit the bottom of the shaft with an impact that broke several of his major bones, and liquefied one or two of his organs. But he was on his feet within seconds, looking around.

The shaft was twenty yards across, and it featured four metal pillars, one in each corner, and a large display screen, easily ten feet across.

The screen lit with a picture of the Chief Director of the PRT, Roberta Costa-Brown.

_"Crawler,"_ she intoned_. "By the powers invested in me, and in accordance with the kill order that has been placed on your head for your individual crimes, as well as those committed while in the Slaughterhouse Nine, I now sentence you to – SKRRZZZK!"_

The screen shattered and shorted out, as Crawler ripped it from the wall and stomped on the smoking remains.

A few seconds later, unseen speakers continued with Costa-Brown's voice. _"- to death. You now have ten seconds to make peace with your actions. May God have mercy on your soul."_

All four metal pillars lit with red LEDs. **10.**

**9**

**8**

**7**

_Do they expect me to try to **s**__**top **__this?_wondered Crawler.

He raised his multiple hands with fists clenched in triumph.

**_"FUCKING BRING IT!"_**he bellowed, as the timers ticked to zero.

As last words went, they weren't bad.

* * *

A jet of flame struck upward from a point a dozen miles away; the rumble of the detonation reached them some moments later.

"It appears to have worked," observed Pathfinder dryly.

_"Did he even try to break the bombs?"_ asked Miss Militia.

Compass Rose shook her head, even though the older woman could not see her. "No. He just ... let it happen."

_"But is he dead?"_ persisted Miss Militia.

"Oh, yes," said Compass Rose. "Very thoroughly."

_"Good,"_said Miss Militia. _"You can take us home now."_

* * *

Purple-brown smoke bloomed, and the Dragon craft, a little the worse for wear, settled on to the landing stage. The cockpit opened, and all three figures climbed out.

When the applause started, they all looked up in surprise. In the few moments that they'd been gone, the Wards and Protectorate capes had assembled on the roof, along with what PRT staff could be spared from regular duties. And they were all clapping.

Armsmaster stepped forward. "Well done," he said. _"Very_ well done, indeed." He nodded to Miss Militia. "I'll see you in briefing room three. The Director wants the after-action report."

Miss Militia inclined her head. "Sir." She turned to Compass Rose and Pathfinder, and shook their hands, one after the other. "I'll see you two later," she said, then turned to follow Armsmaster.

The rest of the Protectorate, as well as the Wards, surrounded them, shaking their hands, slapping them on the back, and generally congratulating them.

"So, wait," said Compass Rose, once the noise died down a bit. "You were waiting on us? You _knew_ we'd succeed?"

Kid Win hugged her. "Well, duh," he said cheerfully. "Who's gonna bet against Compass Rose and Pathfinder?"

She grinned at him and hugged him back. "Thanks for the vote of confidence," she said.

* * *

Assault shook Pathfinder's hand. "Well," he said, "you've managed to raise the bar. Again." He grinned. "What's next? An Endbringer?"

Pathfinder shook his head. "Christ," he said. "I hope not."

* * *

Brian stirred the casserole on the stove while Aisha lounged on the sofa, channel-surfing.

"Smells good, big bro," she called out. "You been taking lessons?"

"Hey," he replied, "you live on your own for a while, you learn how, or you end up eating a lot of takeout." He paused. "Maybe you could stand to learn to cook as well."

She made a rude sound with her lips. "As if." She stopped on a news channel, which showed PRT craft cautiously circling around a smoking hole in the ground. "Huh. What's this?"

"What's what?" he called out from the kitchen.

"Something on the news ... holy shit. I think I know where they went."

"Where?" he asked, wandering into the living room with a spoon in his hand.

"To kill Crawler."

He stared at the TV. "You're kidding." After a moment reading the banner title, he changed his mind. "You're not kidding."

Aisha stared at the screen. "Holy fuck."

"Just between you and me," suggested Brian, "I think you should start being more polite to them."

Aisha nodded. "I think you're right, big bro. I think you're right."

* * *

End of Part 19


	20. Chapter 20

**Finding the Way**

* * *

Part 20: Calm Before the Storm

* * *

"Amy!" said Taylor, holding out her arms. "Vicky!"

Amy Dallon smiled broadly and hugged Taylor closely. Victoria waited till her sister finished hugging the Ward, then took her turn in hugging her. Then she kissed Taylor on the cheek.

Taylor giggled. "Wow, what was _that_ for?"

"For giving Amy the idea to come out to me," said Vicky. "She told me the whole story. And now she's happy, and I'm happy, and it's all due to you. So, a kiss for thank-you."

Taylor grinned. "You're welcome, both of you."

Amy raised an eyebrow. "So how'd things go with Chris?"

Taylor smiled. "Things with Chris went fine." She paused. "Which is more or less why I'm here."

"Oh?" asked Amy.

"Yeah," said Taylor. "I want you to make me infertile for, say, six months. Just in case. I like Chris, but I don't think either of us is ready to be a parent quite yet."

Amy nodded, and put her hand on Taylor's arm. "Done," she said a moment later.

"Thanks," said Taylor.

"Well," said Vicky. "We've got to get going. Things to do at home."

"Okay, see you later," began Taylor, but suddenly there was a rush of wind, and she found herself talking to the air.

She grinned as she started home. _Well, _**_they're _**_happy._

* * *

"You know something, Dad?" said Taylor.

"What's that, kiddo?" he called from the kitchen.

"I'm glad we've got Brian and Aisha living in. It's like having family stay over. Plus, it breaks the boredom."

Pathfinder and Compass Rose had found themselves with not much to do, since Director Piggot had ordered them to take some down-time.

The down-time was the result of a rumour going around about a super-powered assassin making the rounds. Crawler had been written off as a PRT coup, but with the deaths of Heartbreaker and Valefor, people had started talking.

* * *

Alec looked up as they wheeled a large-screen TV into his room.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Something you might want to see," explained Armsmaster, entering the room as the techs began setting up the equipment.

"Oh god, it's not another inspirational fucking video from Glenn, is it?" groaned Alec. "I swear, one more of those, I'll be slitting my fucking wrists."

Armsmaster shook his head. "Inspirational, yes. From Glenn, no."

The techs were finished; he ordered them from the room. Then he picked up the remote and pressed the correct button.

The picture was grainy and jumpy, but Alec tensed all the same. "That's ..."

Armsmaster nodded. "Your father's house, yes."

"Where are you getting this footage _from?"_ Alec wanted to know.

Armsmaster opened his hand, and a tiny buzzing object made its way to Alec, circled his head, then returned to the armoured hero. "A collaboration between myself and Dragon," he explained.

"Ah." Alec turned his attention back to the screen. A very familiar face had just entered the picture; despite himself, he shrank back slightly. "Heartbreaker," he whispered.

Armsmaster nodded. "Indeed."

The picture switched to a different location, looking down from an angle at ... "Is that a _toilet?"_

The door on the screen opened, and Heartbreaker entered the small room.

"Wait," said Alec. "You've got footage of my _dad_ going to the _bathroom?"_

"Just watch," commanded Armsmaster.

Alec sighed and watched. Nico Vasil was not an imposing man, but he would always stand tall in his son's mind, looming over everything else. But sitting on the toilet, he was just the same as everyone else –

"Wait, what was that?"

A puff of smoke on the screen, and something small and round fell on to Heartbreaker's lap.

And then there was nothing but flame and debris. The screen went blank.

Alec struggled for words. "Did you just ... _assassinate_ ... my dad? For me?"

Armsmaster looked straight at him. "Nico Vasil had a kill order on his head. He destroyed the lives of hundreds of innocents. We didn't do it _just_ for you."

He called the techs back into the room, and they removed the TV. As it was wheeled out the door, Armsmaster turned to Alec. "Think about it," he said. And then he was gone, too.

_Well, fuck._ Alec lay back on the pillows. He had a lot to think about.

He didn't have as much time as he'd thought, however. Moments after the door closed, Aisha got up from the chair in which she had been sitting.

"Well," she declared. _"That_ was kinda cool."

Alec jumped. "How long have you been here?" he demanded.

Aisha grinned. "Long enough to watch you trying to put the moves on that nurse, and getting shot down in flames," she said cheerfully.

"No, I mean, how did you get in here?" he asked. "I'm sure I would have noticed."

She grinned wickedly. "My secret, dweeb."

His eyes went wide. "You've got powers - you're a _cape!"_

Her grin widened. "Got it in one."

He stared at her. "Does Brian know?"

Aisha's grin was positively impish. "In good time. I have ideas for a few pranks first."

* * *

"So," asked Danny as he stirred the casserole, "have you gotten back to Chris yet?"

She nodded. "Yeah," she replied. "we might go out on another date soon. It depends on how I feel."

He nodded. "Good enough."

* * *

Taylor and Chris sat side by side at one of the tables in the Wards section of the base.

"Taylor ..." he said softly.

She smiled at him, and put her hand on his. He squeezed it gently.

"I had fun the other night, Chris," she said quietly. "I hope you did too."

"Oh, god yes," he agreed, smiling.

She smiled back. "Well, depending on how things go, we might be able to do another date soon."

"On how things go?" he asked hopefully.

She gave him a quick peck on the lips. "With Pathfinder, with the Wards, with stuff in general."

He sighed. "Okay," he said.

She grinned and put her arms around him. "Hey," she said. "We had a good time. And it's not like we're exclusive. You're free to date other girls."

"_What_ other girls?" he retorted. "Shadow Stalker's gone, Rachel would break me in half just for asking, Insight's not interested, and Vista's what, twelve?"

"Thirteen," she corrected.

"Thirteen, whatever," he said. "Plus, she's more interested in Gallant."

She nodded. "You're right there. But you know, there's more than just the Wards. You could date civilians.". She paused. "Aisha, for instance."

"I asked her," he said mournfully. "She laughed. No - she _cackled_.". He shuddered. "Not going there again."

"Well," she said with a consoling hand on his shoulder, "you could try asking girls who _don't _have ex-supervillains for brothers."

"I _suppose,"_ he said doubtfully. "But you'll always be ..." he trailed off.

She nodded and smiled. "And you'll always be special in my heart too," she assured him. "If I had met you socially sometime, and you had asked me out, I probably would have said yes."

He smiled in return. _It's not perfect, but I'll take what I can get,_ he told himself.

* * *

"Hey, Dean, what's up?" chirped Vista, plopping down into the seat beside him.

"Oh, hey, Missy," the older hero greeted her morosely. "My powers suck."

"How's that?" she asked him.

"Well, you'd think that I could figure out what people are thinking, if I knew what emotions they're feeling, right?"

She nodded. "You usually can, right?"

"Yeah," he grunted. "Except that I have _no idea_ what's going through Vicky's head. I really don't."

"Why, what do you mean?" she asked.

"I thought we were going well," he groaned. "The last few dates with her went really well."

"And then what happened?" she asked.

"_Nothing_," he said, frustrated. "Between one week and the next. I don't hear from her for a week, and then when I do get in contact with her, she simply tells me we're done. Finished.". He threw up his hands. "We didn't even have a fight, this time!"

"Did she say why?" asked Missy.

He shook his head. "Just that she had someone else now, and she was happy."

She shook her head. "Wow, that sucks," she said sympathetically.

He gave her a flat look. "You've got a really good poker face, but don't think I didn't pick up the fireworks in your brain just now. You're being nice because I'm down, but you're really happy that Vicky's dumped me, aren't you?"

It was her turn to flush. "Uh, yeah," she admitted in a small voice. Then she looked him straight in the eye. "And you know why," she challenged him.

"Yeah," he nodded. "I guess I do."

"You know how I feel about you," Missy went on. "You know I'd never do something as mean as Vicky's done to you.". His answering nod was faint, but it was there.

"So tell me," she went on implacably, "why you've never, not once, looked at me like that. Like you look at Vicky."

He sighed, trying to word his rejection as kindly as possible. "Missy," he said. "I'm three years older than you. It would look _wrong_ for a sixteen year old to be dating a thirteen year old."

"Really?" she asked sweetly. "Or is it more to do with the fact that the thirteen year old looks eleven, and that you aren't attracted to me, because I look too young?"

He winced. "I'm supposed to be the Thinker, not you," he protested.

"So _think_ about it," she retorted. "Being three years younger than you just means that when I'm sixteen, you'll be nineteen. And when I'm nineteen, you'll be twenty-two. No-one will even look twice at us."

"That doesn't change matters here and now," he pointed out.

She sighed. "Fine. I look like a kid, and you aren't interested. I get it. You want someone who's actually _developed."_ She started to get up, fighting back tears. _I'm an idiot to think he'd even look at me twice._

"Wait a moment," he said. She stopped, turning to look at him.

"Listen," he told her. "You came over to see how I was. I appreciate that. You listened to me. And I get that you've got that crush, that you're attracted to me." He grimaced. "I can't do much about that. But we can do stuff. Go to the movies or something, out of costume. Get to know each other better. Not boyfriend and girlfriend, you understand. Just ... friends. Good friends. Okay?"

He could see the sunburst of happiness that spread out from her, and he smiled involuntarily. _She really does care for me._ "Yeah," she said, her face lighting up in echo of the emotions that he perceived. "Yeah, that'll be really great. Thanks."

Standing up, he pulled her into a rough hug; she put her arms around him. They stood like that for a moment, then disengaged. "Now," he said. "I heard that there's a new Earth Aleph movie in at the cinemas. Want to go see?"

"Sure," she grinned up at him. "Let's do that."

_It's a start,_ she thought as they walked out of the room. _At least now he's paying attention to me._

* * *

Brian and Aisha stepped off the bus and strolled down the sidewalk toward the Hebert house.

"So, did you have a good day at school?" he asked.

"I had a good day," she replied with a grin.

"At school?" he pressed.

She rolled her eyes. "Not so much, big bro. Got bored, so I went and visited Alec. He's getting better."

"Seriously, Aisha," said Brian. "If Child Services is going to okay us staying with Danny and Taylor, you need to show that you're making an effort. Going to school is a big start."

"Yeah, I know," she groaned. "But it's just so … bor-ring."

"Stick to it," he advised. "You'll find something you like."

"Yeah," she retorted. "Recess."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," he told her, trying for a severe tone. She gave him the finger, more or less out of habit.

"So, how did you get out of class without anyone seeing you?" he asked.

She half-shrugged. "They didn't see me?"

Brian raised an eyebrow. "Huh. I am impressed."

"Hey," said Aisha, striking a ridiculous pose. "I am ninja master." She made several strikes and blocks, one of which nearly left her on her butt, and mimed badly dubbed dialogue; "You will fight me now and die!"

Brian snorted with amusement. "If they ask you, own up to it, okay? And try to get to school more often."

She rolled her eyes as they walked up the path toward the front door. "Yes, mom."

At that moment, the sirens went off.

* * *

Dean and Missy entered the cineplex, looking around to see what was playing soon. Missy wished she had the nerve to grab Dean's hand, but figured he'd probably consider it pushing the boundaries.

"So what do you want to watch?" asked Dean.

Missy shrugged. "Oh, anything's good," she said. _I'm going to the movies with Gallant!_she exulted. _It's not a date, but whooo!_

He raised an eyebrow. "I get the impression that I could suggest Twilight and you'd agree to it."

She grinned unrepentantly. "Bring it on."

"Okay," he said, a grin spreading across his own face. "I choose …"

And at that moment, the sirens went off.

"They just got off the bus," Taylor called into the kitchen.

"Good timing," he observed, putting the finishing touches on the meal.

Getting up off the sofa, she wandered to the door to greet them.

_Brian is really settling in, and even Aisha is seeming less and less wild by the day. These are people I can really call my friends._

Just as she reached the front door, the sirens went off.

* * *

An Endbringer had come to Brockton Bay.

* * *

End of Part 20


	21. Chapter 21

**Finding the Way**

* * *

Part 21: Enter the Endbringer

* * *

Taylor opened the door to see Brian and Aisha on the path. "Come on, get inside!" she shouted.

They reacted, breaking from their instinctive freeze, and bolted into the house.

"Which one is it?" asked Brian.

"Don't know," Taylor said grimly. She grabbed the remote and flicked on the TV. She didn't have to choose a channel; the warning was on all of them.

"_- than is approaching the city. All citizens, move away from the waterfront and either seek high ground or go to your nearest Endbringer shelter."_

The voice was calm, emotionless. She wondered if it was computer generated.

A graphic came up, showing a map of Brockton Bay, overlaid with flood map colours. A blinking red dot was visible offshore. Little winking green symbols scattered over the map indicated Endbringer shelters.

"_If you are in the red zone, leave NOW. Do not stop to grab anything more than arms' length away. Leave NOW NOW NOW. If you are in the orange zone, grab anything that you need, but do not take more than five minutes. If you are in the yellow zone, you have ten minutes of leeway. If you are in the green zone, you have half an hour."_

Taylor noted that there was no green zone.

The graphic changed to a cartoon image of a skyscraper. Blinking red arrows next to it pointed up and down from about the fifth floor.

"_If you are in a tall building, go to the roof or a high floor. Stay away from windows. If you are at or near ground level, go to your nearest Endbringer shelter."_

The banner at the bottom was scrolling. Taylor focused on it. LEVIATHAN APPROACHING CITY. EVACUATE LOW LYING AREAS. SEEK HIGH GROUND OR ENDBRINGER SHELTER. LEVIATHAN APPROACHING CITY ...

The voice began its spiel once more. _"Leviathan is approaching the city. All citizens ..."_

"What zone are we in?" asked Brian. His voice seemed strangely strangled.

"Orange," said Taylor. "Five minutes."

"We'll need less than that," Danny said, even as he appeared in a billow of smoke. "Brian, are you fighting?"

"Maybe I can blind him?" suggested Brian. "But Aisha has to get to a shelter ..."

"Fuck that!" snapped the girl. "Taylor can fight, I can fight!"

"Aisha," said Taylor, trying to be gentle about it, "Brian has powers. So do Dad and I. You don't."

"Like fuck I don't," snapped Aisha.

"You've got powers?" asked Brian.

"Who's got powers?" asked Taylor.

"What about powers?" asked Danny.

Aisha appeared in the middle of them.

"Holy crap!" snapped Brian. "What the fuck, Aisha?"

"I can turn sort of invisible," Aisha said proudly. "I can fight."

Brian grimaced. "I don't like it ..."

"If she's got powers, and she chooses, it's her right," said Danny quietly. "You have to let her make her own decisions eventually."

"Arrr_right!" _crowed Aisha.

"But you don't get close to him!" snapped Brian. "You stay out of the way. You help people who are hurt, stuff like that!"

"Well, duh," she said. "I wasn't exactly gonna take him on in hand to hand."

"... good," he said. "Danny, can I have my costume –"

Taylor put her hand on Danny's arm. Grue's costume, neatly folded, with the helmet on top, was suddenly in Danny's hands, in a cloud of dissipating purple-brown smoke.

"Fuck," said Aisha. "That's very fuckin' impressive."

As Brian took his costume, Taylor's costume appeared in turn, piecemeal. Taylor took each piece as it arrived. Bolting upstairs to her bedroom, she stripped to her underwear and began climbing into the costume.

By the time she came downstairs again, Danny was exiting his bedroom, wearing his own costume.

Downstairs again, Danny grasped Brian's shoulder with one hand; Taylor took his hand and grabbed Aisha's hand with the other.

They went.

* * *

The sirens woke Amy and Vicky out of a sound sleep. It just so happened that they were both in Vicky's bed, and neither was wearing very much.

So that when the bedroom door was flung open by Carol Dallon, she caught both girls _in flagrante_ extremely _delicto_.

Carol stared, then exclaimed, "What in God's name are you two doing in bed together?"

Amy was suddenly and totally tongue-tied. Vicky took a deep breath. "Uh, Mom, Amy and I are together now."

"But you're _sisters!" _snapped Carol. "That's illegal! And immoral!"

"Only by adoption," Victoria pointed out. "We're not related, remember? _You're_ all about how Amy isn't really your daughter."

"Can we deal with this _after_ the Endbringer?" Amy pleaded.

Carol turned to her, her expression cold. "After the Endbringer ..." she said harshly, "you can find another place to live. Because you're not living under my roof."

"Fine," said Vicky. "We'll find a place together."

Carol stared. "What –"

Vicky was looking through her closet and pulling on her costume. _"After_ the fucking Endbringer, Mom. Fuck's sake. Priorities." Pulled on the boots, fitted the tiara.

Amy sidled past Carol and into her own room. Her robes took but a second to pull on over her underwear.

* * *

"Seriously," said Vista. "You have got to be fucking kidding me. I finally get to go to the movies with you, and an _Endbringer_ attacks? What does the world have against me and my happiness?"

"I'm fairly certain that it's not about you and your happiness, Missy," Dean observed gently as he moved alongside her. She was crunching space as fast as she could, to get them back to the PRT building in the least time possible.

Suddenly, she stopped. Dean stared at her. "The fuck it's not," she snapped. "I want one good thing to come out of this day."

He looked at her. "Like what?"

She faced him defiantly. "Kiss me," she said. "Just once. Like you mean it. Like I was three years older. Like I _mean _something to you."

"Missy ... " he said helplessly. "I ..."

Tears were spilling from her eyes, running down her cheeks. "I might _die_ today, Dean!" she shouted. _"You_ might die! And all I want is one little kiss! Is that too much to ask?"

He took a deep breath. "No. No, it's not." He stepped toward her. She opened her arms; they embraced. She tilted her face up toward his; he leaned down toward her.

She closed her eyes just before their lips met.

She had never been properly kissed by a boy before. Dean knew how to kiss, and applied everything he knew. By the time he finished, she was sagging at the knees.

"Are you all right?" he asked in mild concern.

She grinned happily at him. "Oh, definitely."

And as they set off again, Dean could not help but note a certain spring in Missy's step, that had been missing before.

* * *

Miss Militia looked up as the purple-brown smoke billowed. "Oh good," she said. "It's you."

They stood in what they presumed to be the staging area, a hotel not far from the Boardwalk. Grue turned to Pathfinder. "I see Bitch over there, with Armsmaster. You go do what you need to do."

Pathfinder nodded. "Take care," he said.

Compass Rose looked at Miss Militia. "We're doing mass transit now, search and rescue later?"

"Unless we can replicate Dragon Drop with Leviathan," the gun-toting woman noted.

"Can't see it," commented Pathfinder. "Unless ..." He offered a suggestion.

Miss Militia blinked. "You think you can pull that off?"

Pathfinder shrugged. "Don't know till I try."

Miss Militia nodded. "I'll get on to Dragon about it. In the meantime, teams are gathering. I'll have pictures of the team leaders sent to your phone."

"Thanks," acknowledged Compass Rose. She looked up at her father. "Let's make ourselves useful."

* * *

The members of New Wave gathered in the Dallons' living room. There was a tension in the air; Panacea was as far away from Brandish as possible. Glory Girl stood with one arm around her sister's shoulders, ignoring her mother's glares.

"So how are we getting to the staging point?" asked Manpower.

Purple-brown smoke billowed, then dissipated. Two figures were standing there.

"… and question asked and answered," he continued. "Compass Rose and Pathfinder, I presume?"

"That's us," replied the helmeted girl. "Hi, Amy, Vicky."

"Hi," said Amy faintly. Vicky nodded a greeting.

"Can you handle all of us at once?" asked Shielder.

Compass Rose chuckled. "Don't believe the media whitewash. Hold tight."

Everyone was holding on to someone else. Purple-brown smoke billowed, and then dissipated. They were in the staging area. There hadn't even been a jolt.

"Panacea is going on to the hospital, I presume?" asked Pathfinder.

Amy nodded, gave Vicky one last hug, as well as a quick kiss, and then moved over to take Compass Rose's hand.

Smoke billowed, and then dissipated. They were gone.

* * *

"What's the matter?" asked Compass Rose.

Amy hung her head. "Mom – Carol – caught me and Vicky, in bed together."

Compass Rose hugged her. "I'm so sorry. What happened?"

"I'm being kicked out after all this is over."

Pathfinder put a hand on Amy's shoulder. "If you need a place, we can get a spare bed and you can share a room with Aisha."

"Oh, uh, Vicky was talking about moving out with me?" ventured Amy. _Who's Aisha? _she wondered.

Compass Rose and Pathfinder shared a quick glance. "We can handle it," said Pathfinder. "For now – good luck."

Compass Rose consulted her phone, and they were gone again, in the trademark billow of smoke.

Panacea cleared her throat, rolled up her sleeves, and went to help the medics prep for incoming.

* * *

Compass Rose and Pathfinder ranged across the nation, across the world, bringing in cape teams to help fight the Endbringer known as Leviathan. The staging area quickly filled up. They quickly dropped into a routine, and were delivering new teams about once every ten seconds.

And then the Endbringer himself arrived.

They were bringing in one of the last groups to volunteer, a bunch of Australians oddly named the Ayers Rock Surf Club. At the last instant before Pathfinder initiated the jump, Compass Rose found her focus point – Legend – had moved dramatically. She refocused, and the group appeared safely, although ankle-deep in water.

"Struth," commented Bluey, a massive red-headed man who carried a sledgehammer like a child's toy. "Bloody wet season came early."

"Leviathan," said Pathfinder by way of explanation, then they went again, to the top of the PRT tower.

* * *

Pathfinder pressed both buttons on the wristband he had been given.

"Pathfinder and Compass Rose. Capes all present and accounted for. Ready for search and rescue duties."

A synthesised voice came from the small speaker. _"Roger, Pathfinder. Roger, Compass Rose. Stand by."_

There was a pause barely long enough to catch a breath.

"You okay, kiddo?" asked Pathfinder.

"Nervous," confessed Compass Rose.

Pathfinder chuckled. "After this," he promised. "we'll take a long holiday."

And then the synthesised voice began to reel off names. As had been arranged, they showed up as text on Compass Rose's wristband. Only the injured showed up in her text. Only the ones who would benefit from rescue.

* * *

_Carapacitator down, CD-5. _

_Krieg down, CD-5. _

_Iron Falcon down, CD-5. _

_Saurian down, CD-5..._

* * *

They clasped hands. Purple-brown smoke billowed. When it dissipated, as much washed away by the torrential rain as blown by the wind, they were gone.

* * *

"You and you!" shouted Panacea. "You're in charge of the gurneys! Always have one there! Right in that spot! Have one ready to put in its place! If you haven't got one, get a stretcher! Our wounded will be arriving there!"

She drew a deep breath, and began to work on healing Carapacitor. He'd taken a hard hit, but he was still alive.

Even as she did so, the familiar billow of smoke heralded another arrival. Kreig lay on the 'incoming' gurney. The volunteer orderlies hustled it out of the way, and put another in its place. Amy hastily finished with Carapacitor, and turned to Kreig.

One after another, they arrived, and one after another she healed them. Sometimes it was all she could do to stabilise them and make sure they'd survive. Other times, she was able to completely fix an injury; they would tap their wristbands and request pickup.

She was worked off her feet, barely able to snatch a bite to eat or a sip to drink in between patients. But there were others there, and it was possible to see that they were making headway. And it could have been worse. Much, much worse.

* * *

"_Pathfinder and Compass Rose. Message from Miss Militia. Dragon says all done."_

* * *

_Sham down, CD-5. _

_Harsh Mistress down, CD-5. _

_Woebegone down, CD-5…_

* * *

Compass Rose depressed two buttons, even as Pathfinder took them to Sham. He grabbed the cape, they went again before she was able to speak. The gurney was there; Sham landed on it from six inches up.

She focused on Harsh Mistress, sent the location to her father, as she spoke out loud.

"Need a location, a landmark, a name. Something to focus on."

Harsh Mistress was trying to struggle to her feet, her left arm nearly severed at the shoulder. They took her to where Panacea was working, disappeared again.

Woebegone was done before the answer came through. _"It is called the __**Desperate Hope.**__"_

Pathfinder depressed two buttons. "Pathfinder and Compass Rose signing off from search and rescue for the moment."

"_Roger. Signing off from search and rescue, Pathfinder and Compass Rose."_

Taylor focused on the name _Desperate Hope_, and the image swam into view of an ungainly-looking craft sitting on a concrete apron outside a large hangar.

She drove the information into Danny's mind, and they teleported.

* * *

It was late afternoon in Vancouver, and the sun was shining through the trees. It wasn't raining.

As they approached the craft, a side hatch slid open. Pathfinder climbed in first; Compass Rose followed.

_What we need is a craft ..._

The rear seat had been designed specifically to Pathfinder's specifications. He settled into it, and did up his belt. Compass Rose straddled him, and he did up more belts which held her in place. They fitted together like a three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle.

_... lets her sit on my lap in safety and comfort ..._

Clasped hands.

She focused on Miss Militia.

Purple-brown smoke billowed across the concrete apron.

When the gentle breeze wafted it away, there was nothing there.

* * *

Miss Militia gritted her teeth and upgraded her weapon again. _What does it take to hurt this thing?_

"_Miss Militia. Dragon craft Desperate Hope incoming."_

She looked around. There was a massive burst of smoke, and a huge craft splashed to the roadway beside her. A hatch slid open.

"We need a pilot!" yelled Pathfinder.

Hannah shrugged and holstered the pistol. _Let's see if Danny's crazy idea works._

She climbed on board. As she settled into the pilot's seat, she keyed her wristband.

"Miss Militia in craft with Pathfinder and Compass Rose. Do not engage."

"_Roger. Message relayed."_

Fastening the five-point restraints, she took the controls and heaved the craft into the air. It was ungainly, and the thrusters had a totally different sound to what she was normally used to.

_... flying by rockets, not jets, for reasons which will shortly become obvious ..._

A large set of dragon-claw style grapples folded under the craft; when she gave the command, it would take hold of Leviathan. She hoped the craft had been built sturdily enough to take the kind of punishment that the Endbringer could dish out.

_... redundant seals and an air supply ..._

* * *

In the rear seat, Pathfinder faced Compass Rose.

"Let me know when you're ready!" yelled Miss Militia from the front seat.

"One moment!" called Pathfinder. They held each other close, clasping hands, eyes closed, seeking that _oneness._

"He's about to break through the line!" shouted Miss Militia, fighting to jockey the ungainly craft through the howling storm.

Danny took a deep breath. "Now!" he yelled.

* * *

The prototype Dragon craft lurched down through the storm like a dying duck, its thrusters howling in protest. It slammed into Leviathan, metallic claws latching on to the monstrosity.

Leviathan whipped around, his tail smashing at the body of the craft, clawed hands already reaching ...

"Now!" screamed Miss Militia.

* * *

Danny reached deep into the contact between himself and Taylor, and drew from it the strength he needed for this monumental task.

At no other point were they closer, could they do so much with their combined powers.

Taylor had the location. She gave it to Danny.

He activated his power.

* * *

Purple-brown smoke billowed across the battlefield.

When it faded ... Leviathan was gone.

So was the odd craft.

The teeming rain began to ease off.

* * *

Purple-brown smoke billowed, and the clawed hand crashed into a viewport. Cracks radiated, but the specially toughened material did not fracture.

The clawed hands opened, and thrust Leviathan away from the craft.

He fell toward the grey-brown landscape below, but at the last moment, his prehensile tail whipped around and latched on to one of the arms. Miss Militia didn't hesitate; she slapped the JETTISON ARMS button. Explosive bolts fired; the arms fell free.

And with them, Leviathan.

* * *

Writhing, twisting, raging, the Endbringer fell. Slowly, so slowly. Trailing streamers of water that evaporated or froze in odd sculptures that fell in their own turn.

He hit, rolled on the powdery surface, came to his feet. Looked up, toward the craft overhead, limping away on three of six lifting rockets.

Water was beginning to boil off of him in the vacuum, but he followed, his footprints left behind on the surface of the Moon.

* * *

Miss Militia wrestled with the controls. Half the rockets had been damaged or destroyed, and she was lucky they were at one-sixth gee, or the craft would have crashed by now. As it was, they had limited fuel. And a look at the belly cam showed that Leviathan was pacing them, even as water vapour boiled off him in sheets.

_If we land ... we're toast._

"Danny!" she shouted. "Taylor! Wake up!"

A glance over her shoulder showed her that they were still unconscious, slumped over one another. She couldn't see Danny's face, but Taylor had blood coming from her nostrils.

_Never a good sign._

The autopilot was dodgy at best, but she set it and unstrapped. Moving unsteadily in the lighter gravity, she pulled herself over the back of her seat into the rear cockpit area.

_Pathfinder jumped us from the Earth to the Moon, with Leviathan in tow. I would never have believed it possible. But did it kill them?_

Her questing hands found pulses, strong and steady in both of them.

"Danny!" she shouted. She pulled off the lower part of his mask, slapped him. He stirred, groaned.

"Taylor!" she yelled. Grabbing one of Taylor's earlobes, she squeezed it, digging her nail in. Taylor moaned, moved.

Their eyes fluttered open, just as the craft lurched, along with a blaring siren.

"We're out of time!" she shouted. "We're crashing! You've got to get us out of here!"

Pathfinder coughed. "Dunno ... if ... can."

Compass Rose raised her head. She grasped her father's hands.

"We've got to try," she rasped.

Miss Militia looked out the viewport. The craft was settling toward the ground. Leviathan was leaping.

"Go!" she yelled.

They went.

* * *

The storm clouds were dissipating. Search and rescue operations were under way. The damage had been terrible, the casualties horrible ... but far less than projected.

Panacea stopped, wiped her forehead with her sleeve, and looked around for the next casualty.

There were none.

"That's it?" she asked. "It's over?"

One of the orderlies, a woman, shrugged.

A TV at the end of the ward buzzed to life. People started wandering over to watch it.

It told a fantastic story, of a Hail Mary pass, performed by the cape duo Pathfinder and Compass Rose. Of a craft specially devised and built on the fly by Dragon, piloted by the redoubtable Miss Militia. Flying through the storm. Engaging Leviathan in close combat.

And then Pathfinder and Compass Rose exhibiting the true level of their powers.

Teleporting the monster all the way to the Moon.

Telescopes already trained on the creature noted that it had not moved in the last hour. It was dead or dormant. Either way, it wasn't coming back any time soon.

Panacea raised a cheer with the rest of the people in the ward, but the question nagging at the back of her mind was also raised on the screen.

"_Did our brave heroes survive, or did they sacrifice themselves in saving us?"_

* * *

One Week Later

The Dragon craft lurched down through atmosphere. It was broken, leaking air, but descending under power, rather than a steady free-fall. Finally, the fuel ran out, and it began to skip from one point to the next, in a series of cloud-puffs.

It came in over the Atlantic, and from the moment of the first radar sighting, the news travelled like wildfire. When it finally appeared on the landing stage of the PRT building, the landing gear on one side collapsed, and the hatch fell off. Three scarecrow-like figures stumbled out, to a standing ovation.

The story would come out; a desperate, blind jump. Days of teleporting as far as they were able with their numbed, overstrained powers. Food, water and air running low. Hitting atmosphere too hard, popping seams. A hair-raising, risky descent to where the air was breathable. Compass Rose providing guidance to a safe landing.

But all they could say at the time was, "Thank god we're home."

* * *

End of Part 21


End file.
